Bad Reputation
by SpadesJade
Summary: After seven years, HenriMae Locke is returning to Hazzard with some scores to settle. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. If you like to see Bo get tormented for his skirtchasing ways then this is the story for you.
1. The Family Name

Disclaimer: It's on fanfiction dot net. It's free. So I'm obviously getting nothing out of it aside from my own perverse amusement. Don't sue me. I'll share my perverse amusement with you if you ask nicely. :)

This is part one in a potential series. I'm currently thinking abouta sequel so feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Those who are familiar with my other work know that I'm pretty responsive to reviews. They've even been known to affect the story. But in this case, the story is already completed, it will be exactly 10 chapters long, and I will upload a new chapter every Saturday night. So stay tuned if you like it and be prepared. I like angst. Lots of angst. Beware that my character is not only NOT a Mary-Sue, she could be viewed as a complete bitch. But I say nothing else for fear of ruining the story. So, onward...

BE KIND--REVIEW!

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The General Lee tore through the dirt roads of Hazzard, as it was prone to do on any day where the sun rose and set.

**Balladeer: Well, things seem to be just as normal in Hazzard, old Bo and Luke racing their car and practicing their fancy moves. Too bad things never stay normal, not in Hazzard.**

As it drove smoothly along Highway 31, a glimmer of sun caught on a piece of metal not a half mile up. Bo cocked his head back, trying to get a better look. As the light passed, his eyes focused on a very nicely shaped behind in a pair of black leather chaps, crouched down beside a motorcycle.

"Looks like we get to do our good deed for the day, cousin," he quipped to Luke.

"Can't think of a prettier sight to do it to," Luke shot back.

With a mild screech of tires, the General Lee pulled up behind the motorcycle and its comely rider. The woman stood up, eyeing the General Lee warily. Honey-brown hair streaked with red-gold highlights fanned out behind her, adding to the appeal of the picture she presented. A black leather jacket, not too bulky but long enough to cover her hips, disguised exactly what kind of build she possessed, but no one who could fill out a pair of leather pants that well could possibly have a bad one.

A blond head popped out of the driver's seat, bright smile firmly in place for a pretty girl. Luke was only a tad bit slower, but he was closer, so that gave him the advantage.

"Can I help you?" she asked, and both Duke boys noticed that she was clutching a crowbar in her hand, nervously switching it from one to the other.

"Actually, Miss, we were about to ask you the same thing," Bo said, cheerful and flirty as ever. "You havin' trouble?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she said breezily, glancing down. "Already fixed, actually."

"Oh," Luke said, as if he and Bo were of one mind and could easily pick up each other's sentences, "well, then, at least allow us to introduce ourselves. I'm Luke Duke and that's—"

"I know who you are," she cut them off, her face darkening unexpectedly.

Bo blinked. Then he blinked again. Like a puppy recognizing his master, he leapt from his perch on the General Lee and came bounding around the hood.

"Henri-Mae?" he asked, voice going high with excitement.

"Henri-Mae Locke?" Luke picked up for him, feet also on the ground.

The woman nodded coolly.

Both Duke cousins pulled up abruptly.

**Balladeeer: Now you may be wonderin' why the boys are hesitatin' now that they know who the pretty girl is. But Henrietta May Locke had disappeared from Hazzard immediately after Bo had graduated from high school – she didn't even show up for the graduation ceremony, which also happened to be her own. She hadn't been seen in these parts since, and that was at least seven years ago.**

Bo lost the ability to speak. Luke was never so unlucky. "God, Henri-Mae, we were so sorry about your dad—"

"Henna," she corrected them. "I go by Henna." The cold had not left her voice; it was obvious that she was correcting them simply because the familiar "Henri-Mae" was annoying her. "And I'm sure you are."

"Well," Bo had finally found his tongue. It was somewhere in his front shirt pocket. "Is there anything that we can do for you?"

Henna turned to him, looking at him fully for the first time since they'd pulled over. Blue eyes met blue eyes, ice against the ocean. Ice won.

"No, Bo," she said, soft but with enough bite to kill a rattlesnake. "You've done quite enough already."

She slipped the crowbar into the sack that lay at her feet, hitched the sack back to the cycle's back seat, slipped her helmet over her head, and drove off, leaving both Dukes quite speechless in her wake.

"Well," Luke said.

"Yeah," Bo said.

"I always said you weren't too bright," Luke finished.

Bo seemed to snap out of it. "What?" he squawked, even as he tumbled back toward the driver's seat.

"All of that hostility was obviously about you," Luke said as he swung his legs back over and settled into the passenger seat. "You and your stupid libido."

"Talk about the pot and the kettle," Bo shot back caustically.

"Hey, I ain't never pretended to be loyal to a woman in my life," Luke said. "At least the girl knows that going in."

"Well how was I supposed to know?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Big-Time Linebacker. There was no way of knowing how many pretty girls were going to start throwing themselves at you once you started winning games. It just wasn't fair, was it?"

Bo retreated into a sullen silence. He wasn't much for talking about it.

**Balladeer: Now, we don't usually do this, but y'all need to hang on for a good old flashback.**

_Henri-Mae's mother had walked out on them when she was ten years old. _

_Before then, the family hadn't exactly been the happiest. Henrietta got along well with her father – she was a bit of a daddy's girl – but her mother drank. It wasn't so much that she was abusive, but she was sullen and would retreat into her room, basically ignoring her only child. It was Henri-Mae's father who helped her with her homework, went to the parent-teacher conferences, made sure she had lunch before she went off to Hazzard Elementary. But still, Henrietta tried to know her mother. The closest she could get was sneaking into her room while her mother was sleeping off a binger and snuggling up beside her, and bringing her coffee or glasses of water with aspirin to take the edge off the hangover when she awoke._

_When the woman disappeared without so much as a note, but an empty closet and overturned underwear drawer, Henrietta took it much harder than expected. She grew rebellious. She was expelled from Hazzard Elementary for unruly behavior – the last straw had been when she'd led a small pack of girls to smoke in the restroom, and then had set the trash on fire by putting a smoking butt in it in a desperate attempt to cover up what she'd been doing. Secretly, the school psychiatrist suspected that the girl wanted to be caught – standing there, smirking up at the teacher who had walked in on her, while the trash smoked obviously beside her. But it was too much – her father enrolled her in a private school, where she attempted every which way to get expelled from that, as well. The nuns were made of sterner stuff, until Henrietta, in a final act of desperation, had wandered into the convent in the middle of the night, raving drunk and overturning everything that wasn't nailed down. Her father had come to pick her up the next day._

_She was seventeen when she returned to the Hazzard public school system. They hadn't had much choice but to take her, as seven years had passed and the new principal was already facing enrollment problems. Hazzard High serviced not just Hazzard proper but several counties surrounding, just to keep its doors open. If Hazzard High went down, all the children of the surrounding counties would have to get bussed into Capital City, and no one much liked the prospect of being forced to go to school with city children. _

_On Henri-Mae's first day at school, she had beaten the snot out of another girl who had made fun of her name. Instead of it getting her suspended, yet again, it earned the girl's respect, and Henri-Mae became part of a small gang. There weren't many of them – if there was one thing that Hazzard boys didn't like much, it was girls who acted too much like men. _

_Knowing that graduation was less than two years away, Henri-Mae resigned herself to the situation, and actually calmed down a bit. The kind of mischief her friends inflicted was mostly harmless, as they were country girls and had all been brought up more or less right. Besides, her father wanted nothing more than for her to graduate with decent grades so she could go away to college, and she was suddenly inclined to make him happy. _

_The first day she'd seen Bo Duke had been at football practice. They had gone to heckle the cheerleaders. Henri-Mae despised cheerleaders with all her heart and soul…possibly because the display case at the school showed her mother as the head cheerleader of a championship-winning squad, twenty-odd years ago, at Hazzard High. _

_They were lounging on the upper bleachers, smoking, drinking soda, and generally making as many rude comments as they could get away with. And then the linebacker had removed his helmet, revealing a halo of shimmering gold hair._

"_Gimme those binoculars," Henri-Mae hissed at Tonya, who promptly handed them over. They usually used them to spy on teachers and the strange things they did at their cars, but as they were expensive Tonya generally kept them with her at all times, never in her locker._

_Through the lenses, Henri-Mae saw the most beautiful boy in existence. "Who is that?" she asked, her voice just a touch louder, for fear someone unwanted would hear her._

"_Oh, that's Bo Duke," answered Shelly, the most tomboyish of the bunch. Her expression, however, bordered on dreamy. "He's the new linebacker this year. I hear he's really good."_

_The other girls looked at her._

"_Well, people talk," she said with an embarrassed shrug as she buried her nose back in her magazine._

"_Forget it," Lula Marie said from beside Henri-Mae. "He's got jock written all over him."_

"_Yeah," Henri-Mae murmured._

"_And jocks only date preppy girls," Tonya took up the echo._

"_Let me guess," Henri-Mae said, shooting both of them a rather cocky look. "You both struck out."_

"_They didn't even get up to plate," Shelly said from behind her magazine. The other girls glared at her but she went on. "Last dance, he had so many girls flocking around him you couldn't get close. And he enjoyed every minute of it."_

"_A playboy, that one," Tonya said, trying to sound wise as she wiped her glare away. _

"_Sounds like fun," Henri-Mae murmured._

_"What are you thinking?" Lula Marie asked. _

"_I'm thinking," Henri-Mae drawled, "that he might make a good notch on my belt."_

_The trio laughed. "Girl," Lula Marie said, slapping Henri-Mae's knee, "even if you do get him, it'll totally be a race to see if you can dump him before he dumps you."_

"_Sounds like fun," Henri-Mae said again. And it had been the beginning of one of the most miserable six months of her life, which led into the most glorious year she would ever have._

Henna pushed open the screen door. She shook her head – her father had refused to believe in locking his door, all his life. She had never thought anything about it before she'd gone away to school. When she came back, she insisted on putting the older, heavier door that was kept up in the attic, back on its hinges. The one with the locks.

For a family name, it sure didn't fit.

Her father had removed that door, apparently, but it had never made its way back up to the attic. She found it sitting in the foyer, in a corner, ignored and dusty, covering an old closet that contained her old coats. Seeing a task that needed to be done, and willing for anything that would distract her from the inevitable, she quickly got to work reattaching the old thing to its hinges, and then slid the locks firmly in place, keeping the outside out. But it didn't help.

It felt so empty here.

Henna looked around. Bare bones-- that had been her father. No frills, nothing fancy. She stepped closer in, her footsteps sounding so loud in the place. She hesitated at the kitchen table, which blocked her way to the other rooms. She wasn't sure she was ready to go into his bedroom, to look through his personal things…

Her hand rested on the table, feeling how the wood had been worn down to a velvety surface after all these years. Usually, it had been covered with a tablecloth of some type. Most tables were varnished to keep things from staining the wood, but her father had built the table himself, and ran out of steam when it came to applying the varnish. Her mother put the table cloth over it until he had time, but the time had never come. The tablecloth had stayed, for years and years. When she left, it seemed he had removed the tablecloth as well as the door. He never spilled a drop of anything. The surface was as clean as ever.

She sat down in one of the chairs. It wasn't fair. She hadn't meant for this to happen. Her father wasn't supposed to die before she had been ready to come home. She was supposed to be able to find him here, to see him smile at her return, feel his embrace as he forgave her, prodigal that she was. She knew her father loved her. She knew how much she hurt him when she left, just like her mother. Yet she had always hoped that he understood her reasons…

Flinching, she pressed her face into her hands. The last time she had seen her father had been through the thick glass of a prison visiting room. He smiled for her, joked for her, but the disappointment was there.

She should have come home the second she was out. She should have. But it was too late for should haves.

It came on her fast, so fast she didn't expect it. Her chest was heaving, her breath was coming in labored gasps, and her cheeks were wet. She didn't recognize the sound of her own sobs, but she was making them. She cried so hard, she cried herself to sleep, right then and there, seated at that kitchen table. It was there that she spent her first night back in Hazzard.

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"Henrietta Mae Locke is back in Hazzard," Jesse mused as he helped Daisy pack the picnic basket. His voice didn't sound strange, but there was a look about his old eyes that made the cousins uneasy.

Bo sat at the kitchen table, considering. "I don't know if this is such a good idea, Uncle Jesse," he finally said, realizing that he had no appetite to finish his apple pie.

"Nonsense," Jesse Duke replied. "Girl lost her father. Who also happened to be a good friend of mine. We're going, all of us." He shot Bo a sharp look. "Got it?"

Bo looked to Luke, desperate. "I don't think she wants to see Bo, Uncle Jesse," Luke said. "I mean, there's a lot of bad blood there—"

"Don't rub it in," Bo muttered, cringing at the thought.

"Well, I'm just saying," Luke went on. "It might go better if Bo stays here."

Uncle Jesse turned around and fixed his youngest nephew with a gaze. It was understanding, but there was an unyielding quality to it that Bo had seen many times before. He stepped away from his task, letting Daisy finish filling the basket – a few loaves of bread, some fried chicken, and one of Daisy's famous crab-apple pies were a helpful gift from the Duke family to Henri-Mae, seeing as how she just got into town and no doubt needed some provisions while she was taking care of family business.

**Balladeer: Now if there was one standard that Jesse Duke lived by, it was to always stand by your friends, and most especially, the children of your friends once your friends had gone. Having raised three orphans himself, he knew the value of kindness. When people talk about a heart of gold, they're talking about Uncle Jesse.**

Sitting down in front of him, Jesse thought carefully before speaking. "Look, Bo, what happened was a long time ago. Seven years…that's a lifetime for some people. Now I'm not going to sugar-coat anything and say that she doesn't have a right to be mad at you, but you're not the same person you were then. You were a boy, and now you're a man. And a man faces up to his mistakes."

"Can't make her forgive me," Bo muttered.

Jesse shrugged. "Well, who says? You gotta be a stand-up guy, Bo. You'd never in a million years make the same mistake you did. And if you gotta take some cold looks and a few unkind words as part of your medicine, well, so be it."

Bo felt himself deflate, but he nodded. The only way to show Henri-Mae that he had changed was to…well, _show_ her.

"We're not going to get a warm welcome," Bo warned.

"Well, you hang back in Dixie and let me pave the welcome," Jesse said, rising. "I've never known anyone to resist a basket of fresh fried chicken and a crab-apple pie before." He grinned and winked. "Come on, sun's getting higher in the sky. Can't waste the day."

_A/N: I'm really trying to do the Balladeer correctly. Let me know if you have any suggestions to make the Balladeer more like the show._


	2. You Let Him Die

Disclaimer: Did you read chapter one? Same story. :)

A/N: A special thanks to Dawnie7, the most loyal reader a writer could ask for. I checked my stats and this story got 50 hits...fifty hits and one reivew? Well, I'm not going to whine about it, I've done my share of reading and not reviewing. It would just be nice to get some feedback, y'know? Courtesy? Anyway...here's the update I promised, a few minutes later but still like I promised.

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It was the sun in her eyes that finally woke her up. Warm and bright, it peered right down into her face, penetrating her eyelids with a brilliant yellow-orange-red blur that was painful when she finally opened her eyes. Henna ducked away, and then groaned. Her neck and shoulders were stiff from being hunched over all night, and when she checked the kitchen clock, she was dismayed to find that it was almost noon.

She hadn't meant to stay here this long.

Rubbing her neck and shoulders as well as she could, she also flexed her arms several times, back and forth, going faster and faster. She'd done worse damage to herself riding for too long, she decided, and was just about to see if there was anything to drink other than well water when she heard the hum of a car.

Standing up, she realized that the car was coming right up the drive. She went to the kitchen window and saw a white Jeep with the word "Dixie" painted over its hood, and a familiar blond head at the wheel.

She bridled. He had a lot of nerve…but no, he wasn't alone. The familiar, rotund form of Uncle Jesse was in the back, and she recognized Daisy – of course, Daisy was impossible not to recognize, not with those legs – and noted with some puzzlement the rather large picnic basket the two were toting between them.

Letting the curtain slide back, she immediately realized that her vanity was at stake. She sprinted down the short hallway into the bathroom, which smelled dry and musty after being out of commission for so long, and tried to turn on the light. Luckily there was enough light coming from the window so that when the bulb wouldn't come on she didn't feel the urge to swear too loudly.

Her face was red and lumpy, half of it pressed in from the wooden table, the other half swollen from where she'd been crying. Her eyes were red and her hair hung limp and dead at her shoulders and down her back. There was no way in heaven or hell she was going to be seen like this, and went for her bag, trying to find her brush, and simultaneously almost washing her face with what passed for water in the pipes. Almost, because once she saw the brown consistency, she did swear and started to rub her wet hands on her pant legs in disgust.

She managed to dig out some cleansing pads from her pack and wipe them over her face, but there wasn't much she could do about her eyes. Hair brushed, she realized she was out of time and it just didn't matter. Someone was attempting to turn the doorknob, and was obviously surprised to find that it wouldn't give.

She stormed over to the door and slammed the locks back. The act of making the noise seemed to satisfy her tension, and she ripped the door open, stepping out, making Uncle Jesse, the culprit as it turned out, take a step back down the stairs.

"Can I help you?" she demanded, her eyes flickering over the miniaturized parade. Daisy was at Jesse's elbow, Luke a bit farther back, and Bo firmly planted at the wheel, not having moved. She almost smirked. He looked sufficiently cowed, she thought, but then the thought that he wasn't directly in front of her ready for more of what she was so desperate to dish out just irked her more. It was irrational, but grief was like that.

"Henri-Mae," Jesse said with a smile in greeting. He held out the picnic basket. "The boys told me you were in town. I wanted to bring you something, I know the house is pretty bare—"

She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, the very picture of indifference. "And what, I'm supposed to be grateful?"

**Balladeer: Now you can bet that that comment brought Bo out of the jeep and on his feet. It was one thing to attack him, but to disrespect Uncle Jesse right in front of him was another.**

The harshness of her voice surprised even her for a moment, and the uncharacteristic twist of guilt as Uncle Jesse, who was not Bo, she reminded herself, looked taken aback. "Well, your dad and I were good friends, and I just wanted to—"

She laughed. A bleak, soulless laugh. "Friends," she said. "Is that why you let him die?"

"Now wait a minute," Luke said. "That isn't fair—"

She silenced him with a glare and felt a shred of triumph.

**Balladeer: Not many people can make Luke Duke speechless; that is one aaaaangry girl.**

"My father had cancer. He had it for three years. He didn't get any treatment, he just rotted away and died." She turned her eyes back on Jesse. "Why the hell didn't you do something about it? You were his friend, why didn't you make him get treatment?"

Jesse had always had a comforting affect on her when she was younger. The friendship between him and her father had been one of the few cornerstones of her life. But after her mother had walked out, all Henna had really felt toward Uncle Jesse was a simmering resentment that the man who seemed to be able to fix anything had utterly failed them. And now was no different.

Still, the older man was stepping very carefully. Gently, in that same voice he had always used to explain things to obstinate people, he said, "Well, Henri-Mae, I did try."

"You tried," she said blandly.

"Your father had a will of his own," Jesse said, his voice still cautious. He looked reluctant, but the words were coming. "Cyrus just…he just didn't seem to have a will to live, not after your mother…and then you…"

Wrong thing to say. Her face flushed crimson and her hands were down on her hips in tightly clenched fists before the General could whistle Dixie. "What are you saying?" she snapped, taking a step forward and making the older man step back. "That it's my fault? That I'm the reason he's dead?" By the last word, she was practically shrieking.

**Balladeer: If I were Luke or Daisy I'd get ready to jump in and hide her if she dares raise a hand against Uncle Jesse.**

"My fault!" she screamed, pushing them all back a few inches. "He gave up the will to live because of me! Is that what you're saying?"

"Now, Henri-Mae," Jesse said, on the ropes and not doing too well. "I didn't say that… but he made his own choice—"

"And he chose to die because of me, that's what you're saying!" She stepped back, afraid that she might hurt him, and she was pretty sure she couldn't take both Luke and Daisy on at the same time. "Well…well…" Rage bubbled and overflowed, choking her words.

"No, no, not at all!" Jesse tried, but it was useless.

"Take your picnic basket," she said, pointing, "and shove it up your ass! I don't want anything from you or your _family_," she added with particular contempt, hand swinging toward Bo, "and I swear to God if you ever set foot on my father's farm again, I'll get out his old shotgun and put you all down like rabbit dogs!" She stepped back and swung the door shut, the thunderous crack of the wood hitting wood accentuating her last words like a gigantic exclamation point.

Jesse stood and look at the closed door, shaken. He turned and glanced at his wards, and then shrugged, defeated. "Let's go home," he said, his voice exhausted.

"What about the basket, Uncle Jesse?" Daisy asked, her voice as small as a child.

"Leave it on the step," Jesse said. "Just in case she gets hungry and changes her mind."

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She was sobbing, she realized, _again_, adding with disgust. She couldn't bear to look at the Dukes standing outside through the door's window, and she couldn't bear going deeper into the house, so she turned around and slid to the floor with her back against the door. After letting the storm ride, she felt herself calm a little, and then soon she was hiccupping softly, the fit having passed.

She looked around the kitchen. Something felt strange, after that explosion. She felt better, and at the same time, she felt worse. After a considerable time basking in this feeling, trying to decipher it, she pulled herself to her feet.

Even though it was late in the day, she was still exhausted…but after that shake up there was no way she could think about getting any more rest. And after a few yards walk through the house, she realized that it was even more unthinkable that she could sleep here, in this place. The memories pressed in on her like smog, making it hard to breathe.

She couldn't even go into her own bedroom.

She went back into the bathroom. In her haste before she hadn't even looked around, but it wouldn't have made much difference. Her father had always been a neat freak, and place was bare and sparkling, dulled only by the lack of use for the last month. She turned the sink back on, relieved that the dull brown water was out of the pipes and now it was running relatively clear, and splashed some of it onto her face. From being face down all night, she hadn't suffered too much from bed-hair, so her appearance, at last check, was acceptable.

Going back out into the kitchen/dining area, she picked up her bag. She wasn't going to stay here another second. And the Dukes were long since gone. She'd heard their car drive away, after a hesitation. She'd counted the seconds, fingers digging into her palms, worrying that they would be stupid enough to come back and try again, not sure if she wanted them to, or if she was afraid she might hurt one of them if they did.

One of them in particular. But she couldn't bring his face into her mind at that moment, not willingly.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, scooped up her helmet and went out the front. She let the door slam behind her, useless and unlocked. It didn't matter to her if someone wanted to break in and steal everything. It would save her the trouble of having to deal with it, which she knew was coming eventually.

**Balladeer: That lady is stretched so thin, I wonder how long it'll take before she snaps.**

Revving up her bike, she wondered where the hell she was going to go. Everywhere in Hazzard just seemed like a great red flag, getting the bull inside her excited. She was exhausted, she just wanted to go somewhere and rest her poor head, let all this ebb away from her for the moment…

The boarding house. _Hogg's Hotel Heaven_, She'd been in that place once or twice when she was younger, and it had been neat and clean, if overpriced. She wondered if it still was. She smirked. Sometimes it was nice when things didn't change.

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A woman stood at the counter of Hogg's Hotel Heaven, going about the business that hotel clerks went about. At the moment, she was slipping bills into the cubby holes at Boss' orders, as he had just raised the rate for the weekend by twenty dollars.

**Balladeer: Now in case y'all don't recognize that girl, that'd be Shelly, one of Henri-Mae's old high school friends. She's been running the counter at _Hogg's Hotel Heaven_ since she graduated, and she's very good at it.**

Henna pulled the wooden door open. It amazed her, how everything in Hazzard was still made of wood. Most hotels had big glass doors so you could easily see the hallway, but not this one. Boss was probably too cheap to replace it, figuring that since he was the only real deal in town, people didn't have much choice.

The inside seemed to be the same. Warm, rich dark woods surrounded her, giving a womb-like feeling. The counter was immediately to the left of the front door, and a dark head was bent down, the sweep of a burgundy pony-tail on her shoulder. Immediately the head bobbed up at Henna's approach.

Green eyes lit up at the sight of her. "Henri-Mae?" she said before Henna could even open her mouth.

Henna was on the verge of correcting her, until recognition set in. "Shelly?" she shot back. "Shelly Winston?"

The woman started to laugh, coming around the nearly-invisible opening to the side and opening her arms to hug her friend. Henna took the embrace willingly, although she was surprised at herself for being so eager for it. It felt good to see a truly friendly face.

"My goodness, what are you doing back in Hazzard?" Shelly started, and then pulled back, her grip on Henna's shoulders softening in sympathy. "Oh, dear…that's right. I'm so, so sorry, Henri. When did you get in?"

"Last night," Henna replied, willing herself to stiffen again. She wasn't up for another breakdown, certainly not in public. "I was wondering if you have a room."

"For you, always," Shelly said with a smile. "My goodness, it's been at least seven years. It's so good to see you."

"You too," Henna replied, leaning against the counter, and although she meant the words, her tone was distracted. "So you work here?"

"I _run_ here," Shelly said, pulling up some papers. "For the last four years. The three before that I was just another grunt, but once I finally got over that tom-boy thing, it really took off for me."

Henna made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. "Wow," she said flatly. "That tom-boy thing worked for you, though."

Shelly shrugged one shoulder. She did look good – she had a pale quality that most country girls didn't possess, from being in the sun all day. Being inside had done wonders for her complexion, giving her a delicacy that only brought out her pretty looks. "Well, being married changes a few things," she said, flashing her golden wedding ring.

Henna raised one eyebrow. "Married, huh?" she said, politely taking Shelly's hand to inspect it. "To whom, may I ask?"

"Lloyd Dunbar," Shelly said, practically beaming. "About six years now. We've got two kids, Molly and Bill. She's four, he's two." She was scrambling for her purse, which contained pictures. "I can't wait for you to meet him, Henri, he's just the sweetest guy."

Suddenly Henna was having a hard time swallowing. The two children were just as beautiful as their mother, only with sun-kissed cheeks and fairer hair. After giving them the dutiful inspection, she pushed them back at their mother. "So that takes care of you," she said with a forced smirk. "Ever hear from Lula Marie or Tonya?"

"Lula Marie still lives in town," Shelly said, putting the pictures away. "She bought the General Store some time back, and runs her own business from her home. She's still single," she added with a wink.

"Her own business?" Henna echoed. "Doing what?"

"Internet stuff," Shelly said with a shrug. "Never got it completely explained to me, but Lula Marie always was the smart one. Next to you, of course," she added with a wink.

Henna's smirk widened into a smile. "And Tonya?"

"Tonya," Shelly said thoughtfully. "She blows through town every now and again. She lives in Capitol City, though. Comes down here to drag me and Lula out of our 'boring country lives,' as she says, to go tear up the town."

"How often?"

"Every few months, give or take a few weeks." Shelly leaned over the counter. "I don't like spreading gossip, but I have to tell you, rumor is that she's working as a stripper in a club in Capitol City."

"That'd be Tonya," Henna replied wryly. Tonya had never been shy about her body, and had never had a reason to be. In fact, in terms of looks, Tonya had been Henna's only real competition, and it was just plain lucky that the two of them had been such good friends, or else they could have done each other some real damage. "But the other two of you decided to stay in Hazzard, huh?"

"Lula Marie got out long enough to go to college," Shelly said, on a roll now that she had fresh ears. "She came back, saying that Hazzard was a better place to live than just about anywhere she'd been." Shelly shrugged. "I already knew that, didn't need to go prancing around Europe to learn that."

"Europe?" Henna couldn't help the jealousy that crept into her voice. "She went to Europe?"

"Graduation gift from her parents," Shelly said with a sigh. "They scraped up years to do it, but they were just so proud of her cleaning up her act after high school and making something of herself—"

Henna bridled, visibly. Shelly saw it and instantly stopped. "Well," she said after a pause, "y'all have to admit, we were a bunch of hell raisers." She wrinkled her nose. "And Lula Marie's parents were always a pair of prudes."

That cracked a smile, as it was painfully true. Shelly patted Henna's arm. "Look, you go get some rest in your room, go relax. I'll give you a call at about lunch, and we can get something in the kitchen, on me. What do you think?"

Henna nodded, picking up her bag. "Sounds good, Shell, thanks."

**Balladeer: See, just goes to show that everybody needs a friend.**


	3. Get That Notch After All

Disclaimer: Same as always. :)

A/N: Well, I should moan more often! I gots me a whole buncha reviews! Thanks to all of you, hugs and kisses all around (from Bo, not me, (grin)), and as it is yet another Saturday night, I have yet another update. This is one of those rare situations when the fic is already finished. It has exactly ten chapters, and one will be updated every Saturday night, come heck or high water. I'm currently working on the second story, which should be done by the time I finish posting this, which means (you guessed it!) more story. And considering the compliments I've received so far, I'm guessing that news will make y'all happy.

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Spending time in Shelly's company was refreshing. The woman had a bit of a single-track mind, and her weakness had always been gossip.

Balladeer: Now that girl Shelly…she could talk and talk until she went hoarse and she'd still keep talking, as long as there was something new to tell, or a particularly juicy tidbit to retell. By the time lunch was over, Henna had been effectively caught up on the last seven years of Hazzard History. Of course, the best part about listening to Shelly was that one could listen with one ear, and think with the other.

The kitchen of the hotel did have big, wide windows, so that the cooks could open them to air out the place, should something start to smoke. The windows overlooked the side alley, and directly across the way was the Hazzard County Bank, also owned by Boss Hogg. Into that alley, a particularly noticeable orange car pulled up, and two men came out.

Almost against her will, Henna's eyes were drawn to Bo. She hadn't allowed herself much of a look yesterday, not with those eyes staring back at her. She'd always found those eyes so hard to take…so warm and apparently honest, they could make her think or do anything they liked.

But now, watching him from a distance, and unobserved, it was a different matter. Now she could look at him freely.

"Hasn't changed much, has he?" Shelly said, noticing as she sipped her coffee.

"A little," Henna commented. "He's gotten…thicker."

"Yeah, he always was pretty skinny for a football player," Shelly agreed. "But he wore down those two tackling boars, remember?"

"I remember," Henna murmured.

"But I was talking about other things," Shelly said carefully, watching Henna's face.

**Balladeer: Now if I didn't know better, I'd say that girl was trying to get ol' Henri-Mae upset**.

"You mean he's still a cheater?" Henna said caustically, but her tones were low, so as not to carry.

"He's a player," Shelly corrected. "If he was running around getting girls pregnant, there would be hell to pay. Most daddies run him off their property before he can even get that far, usually wish shotguns. He keeps it in his pants, mostly, but that doesn't stop him from staring at every set of legs that goes by, or trying to kiss every pair of female lips pointed his way."

Henna nodded. "Doesn't surprise me." He'd been that way in high school, too, until she'd come along. Flinching, she looked away, but it was a matter of seconds before she was looking back.

_Damn him_. Damn his pretty smile, his pink lips, his perfect cheekbones, the soft blond down on his arms that she could still feel against her back in her half-waking dreams. Damn those eyes that shone huge and blue, flickering from innocent to wicked with a twitch of his cheek. Damn him for being so…_Bo_. Damn him to hell.

"You're gonna break that cup," Shelly said in a low voice. Henna looked down and saw the grip she had on her coffee cup. Abruptly, she set it down, sending the blood rushing back to her fingertips.

"So he got anyone official?" she said, musing to herself. Maybe she could break him up with whoever he was with. That would at least cause him a headache. But then again, it was Bo. He never stuck long.

"Nobody right now," Shelly said. She eyed Henna thoughtfully. "You're still pissed at him, aren't you?"

"No shit," Henna muttered. "You'd be too."

Shelly shrugged. "Henri, let's be honest. You're the one who made the mistake. You wanted a notch on your belt. You should have kept it at that."

Henna nodded. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Shelly went on, "you need to just go back and do that."

"Excuse me?" Henna turned to her, surprised. "What?"

"Make a notch on your belt," Shelly said with a half-wicked smile. "Get him out of your system. Unless you're still hung up on him."

"I'm not," Henna said through clenched teeth.

"Uh huh. Well, forget I said anything. It's a bad idea, anyway."

_No_, Henna thought. _Actually,_ _it's not a bad idea at all._

**Balladeer: I don't like the look on that girl's face.**

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**Balladeer:_ The Boar's Nest_ on any given night was the hotspot in town. It was particularly hopping when Boss Hogg's speedtrap was working and he managed to land himself a celebrity country singer to bring in the crowd. Unfortunately, this was not one of those nights.**

Bo and Luke sat at a table, mulling things over. The events of that morning had not sat well with them – primarily because they knew that Uncle Jesse had done everything he could for Cyrus, but the old man hadn't listened. And secondly…well, it was mostly Bo's concern.

He drank his beer slowly. It tasted particularly bitter on his tongue tonight, and while he normally liked that, the buzz just wasn't there.

It didn't help when she walked in.

If anything, Henrietta Mae Locke had only gotten prettier in the last seven years. She'd lost any semblance of baby fat she might have been clinging to, and her legs had been muscled out into the finest pair he'd seen in a while. Most southern girls had good legs, but hers were outstanding by their soft shade of cream, probably from being in those leather pants for so long.

Tonight she was wearing a loose-fitting sundress that draped around her shoulders, a pale blue that brought out her eyes, a low neckline that showed off her cleavage. But she wasn't dressed for attention. She had a shawl wrapped about her upper body as if she wanted to hide.

He remembered her face from earlier that morning. The red cheeks, the bright nose, how her eyes had glittered at them, hard with malice and still bright with tears. While she seemed to be back to her regular skin tones now, there was a sadness about her that just wrenched at him.

He wanted to go talk to her. He wasn't sure he dared.

Bo turned back to see that Luke was looking generally in the same direction. The cousins' eyes met. Bo looked away first.

"I don't think apologizing is going to do much good," Bo muttered.

"I didn't say anything," Luke said.

"You were thinking it," Bo returned.

Suddenly Luke's eyebrows shot up. "Hang on," he said, his voice slipping from between unmoving lips. "Here it comes."

Bo ducked his head up, surprise on his features to see that she had noticed them and was approaching, a pitcher of beer in one hand. She gave them a tentative smile. "Hello, Bo…Luke."

The cousins eyed her warily, afraid of another explosion, but knowing full well that being rude to her, considering her current situation, was unthinkable, no matter how much of a scene she might make. People in stages of grief weren't always themselves, as Uncle Jesse said, and had to be given some extra, extra room.

"I, uh…" she set the pitcher down on the table. "I wanted to apologize for my outburst earlier today. I know you were just being friendly. I was upset."

_Upset._ It was a small word for what she'd really been, but there was no way she was going to elaborate.

"That's okay, Henri-Mae…I mean, Henna," Bo corrected himself, straightening.

She gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Henri-Mae's fine, Bo," she said. "Well, I bought you a pitcher to say I'm sorry…and please pass it on to your uncle Jesse. Dad would never want me to be rude to him, no matter what."

**Balladeer: If you ask me, rude was the _least_ of what she was to him.**

"Please, Henri-Mae," Luke said, leaning forward and nudging a chair closer to her. "Have a seat, we'll get you a glass, you can join us."

She shook her head. "No, thank you." Her fingers absently tapped at the handle of the plastic picture. "This is all I really came in here to do." She glanced once more at Bo, a touch longer than at Luke, and smiled at them again, again it not reaching her eyes. "Well, I'll see you around for a bit, then. Bye." And she gracefully withdrew herself from them, heading toward the door.

Bo looked back at his cousin. Luke had always been faster with his head than his fists, and Bo the exact opposite. The fact that Bo deliberately looked to Luke before bursting off at the top was a sign that he knew how serious this situation was.

"Go talk to her," Luke said with a nod. "Can't hurt too much, can it?"

Bo got up and followed. Henna had already stepped outside the Boar's Nest and was half-way across the parking lot by the time he caught up with her.

"Henri-Mae!" Bo called, skidding to a stop a few feet from her. She jumped, as if he'd startled her. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Look, I just wanted to say—"

"_I'm so sorry!" Bo was practically on his knees, the girl Henri-Mae had punched curled into a fetal position on the ground, currently ignored in spite of the blood pouring from her nose. "God help me, Henri-Mae, I'm so sorry!"_

Henna shook the vision off. "—I just wanted to say that I hope that you and I…well, I want to make up to you what happened."

"Please, she said with a shake of her head, as if it didn't matter. "That was seven years ago, Bo."

"_I'll never forgive you for this, Bo Duke," she spat at him, letting it fly right onto his face. She barely managed to keep her fist from connecting with one of those pleading eyes. "Not as long as I live! I'll rot in hell before I ever spare you so much as a kind word again!"_

He seemed to blush. "That isn't what you said then."

She frowned. "Do we have to talk about unpleasant memories?" she said, her voice trembling a bit. "I just…I just wanted to make some peace. I mean, so many things have changed…"

Bo's hand was warm on her shoulder. It temporarily took away the chill that the shawl hadn't been able to shake. His fingers slid close to her neck, a gesture she remembered all too well. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Look, I want to do something for you…anything. Anything you want, I'm here."

She sighed. The tremble in her voice before hadn't been faked, but she ignored it, sucking it up as all part of the plan. "Well," she said, folding her arms, "maybe I could use a little company. Could we go for a walk?"

"Sure," he said with a smile.

As they turned, she ducked her head down, letting the curtain of her honey-brown hair shield her face. "Could you…maybe put your arm around me?"

He complied instantly. She was drawn into the glow of his body-heat, and she shut her eyes for a moment, relishing it as it thawed that half of her body.

"Hope I'm not being too forward," she said, her voice a little smaller.

"Not at all," Bo said, his smile in his voice. "It is a pretty chilly night."

**Balladeer: Now normally, Bo with his arm around a pretty girl wouldn't be a cause for concern, but he ain't seen the things we've seen about that girl he's with.**

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They walked until they came to the old creek, which was the place where kids went to play in the daytime, and teenagers came to make out in the evenings. With it being early in the school year, the teenagers hadn't quite made it out there yet, leaving it open and empty for whoever wanted to take advantage of the small patch of land that seemed to be mysteriously free from the mosquitoes.

Bo didn't know what to talk about. It seemed that everything that came into his head was a bad subject. He couldn't talk about high school, as that was all but ruined by what had happened between them. He couldn't talk about her family, as she had none to speak of now, and while he ventured that asking her what she'd been doing for the last seven years seemed safe enough, the knowledge that at least one of those years had been spent in a prison didn't bode well.

"You're quiet," she said when they paused.

"Can't think of much to say," he said awkwardly.

"That doesn't sound like the Bo Duke I knew," she said, smiling up at him. She pulled away and found a place to sit on one of the larger boulders that had been a part of that creek bed since before there had been white men in Hazzard. Bo settled himself beside her. She reached out for one of his hands. "If you could say anything, what would you say?"

"Come again?"

"You're worried about upsetting me, I can tell." Her eyes shone up at him, reflecting some of the moonlight that slipped down through the tall, slowly thinning trees. "Go ahead, ask me anything."

"But I don't want to upset you," he said softly, closing his fingers around hers.

"I won't get upset, I promise."

He drew a breath. "You…I just don't understand why you seem to have decided to forgive me, that's all," he said. "I mean, what happened then…"

"Did you ever do it again?" she asked, her voice just a touch sharper than she intended.

"No, ma'am," Bo said with a heavy sigh. "A mistake like that only deserves to be made once, if ever. If I did it again, well…that would make me scum."

He couldn't read her face, as she had tipped it to the side and cast it in shadows. "So you've changed?" she ventured.

He shrugged. "Can't say that I have. I've just been more careful."

Henna pulled her hand away. "Not to let the girls find out," she said bitterly.

"I knew this was going to upset you," Bo said, reaching for her hand again. "Look, what happened between us…I've been looking for it ever since, in every girl I meet. But none of them have ever been you. I know I'll never deserve your feelings again, Henri-Mae, but if you could really forgive me…maybe we could both heal and move on."

"You're really sorry, aren't you?" she said in barely a whisper.

"With everything that I am," he replied sincerely.

She fell silent. Long moments passed. Finally she shook the hair away from her face and met his eyes. "You said you'd do anything for me. Did you mean that?"

He nodded, swallowing.

"Kiss me," she whispered. He hesitated; he was sure he'd heard her wrong.

"What?" No, not wrong, not by that look on her face. "Are you sure? I mean, I know I ruined everything, I don't deserve another chance, but—"

"Bo," she said, her voice a bit harder, "please, just shut up and kiss me."

He did.

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Come back the Sunday after Thanksgiving and you'll find out where this leads. Although I can say this...you wont' be expecting it. :)


	4. Fox In A Hen House

Disclaimer: Maybe if I'm really, really good, Santa will bring me the rights for Christmas. And Bo Duke. Wrapped up in a pretty red bow. But somehow, I doubt it. :)

A/N: Well now that we've got instant messaging, we can send each other replies to reviews without having to post them here! Isn't that fun? Well, if you want a reply, you have to log in, or else there is no reply button. Although that still doesnt' guarantee you a reply because time is short these days. BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS! I treasure them...I revel in them...bloody hell, I do this FOR them! How pathetic is THAT:)

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**Balladeer: I'll bet y'all can figure out on your own what happened here.**

Henna stood in the shower, letting the water run down her body in thick streams, knowing that if she kept this up she was going to use all the hot water up, but she didn't care.

It had felt too good. Too familiar.

She'd tried to tell herself that it was just physical, this time. She had said before that Bo had gotten thicker…which meant there was more of him to taste. He'd always teased her, saying that it was the boy who was supposed to neck the girl, not the other way around, but it didn't stop him from moaning as her lips left shimmering trails across his body. Taking her sweet time all the way.

He'd learned a few things since they'd been together. Things she knew she hadn't taught him because she hadn't known much of them herself back then. She'd been as innocent as him, the first time. But now…it wasn't two teenagers fumbling in a pale imitation of the act of love. It was much more than an imitation.

_But it wasn't the real thing. _

_It was only physical_, she told herself, chanting it in her head again and again, even as sensation threatened to push it out and fill her with only the pulsating blaze of pleasure. Back and forth they fought and switched, surrendering to the other and then rising up again with a new counterattack. She had never spent a night like this with anyone, not ever.

She turned the hot water up higher, until her skin turned bright red. But eventually the supply gave out and she was drenched in icy streams. It had partly the same effect.

Getting out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and then overlapped it with a robe. She found him exactly where she'd left him, in that narrow, twin bed in the corner of her room, only a part of him covered – _the best part_, her addled brain taunted – and the rest of him tanned and glowing against the white sheets. He was still asleep, his face half-down in the pillow, half of his dream-induced smile showing.

She sighed. She reached down and picked up his boot. Then she discarded it for one of her slippers, which was narrower and therefore offered less wind-resistance. Regret panged her for a moment, but she sternly told herself that it was only because it had been so damn good, and now it was over. It was like eating the best meal of your life and knowing you'd only have the memory. Nothing more.

She hefted the slipper over her shoulder, cocked it back and slung it like a professional baseball pitcher. It landed square against Bo's head.

"GET OUT!" she screamed.

He jerked away as if suddenly seized by a spasm. Feet kicked high in the air, arms flung away the sheet, exposing the rest of him, which nearly derailed her. But in a valiant effort she reached down for the other slipper and hurled it, this time catching him dead in the stomach.

"Oof!" came his grunt. He looked at her with wide, frightened eyes, the sleep having been thoroughly scared off and sent jumping out the window. "Henri-Mae, what—"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" she howled, loud enough to rattle the walls and echo into every room around them, as the walls were not thick. "YOU BASTARD!"

This time she did grab his boot and heft it at him. He barely caught it, shrinking back toward the wall. "What…what the hell did I do?" he managed, his voice somewhere between a yelp and a whine.

"You know PERFECTLY FUCKING WELL!" She was screaming so loud her cheeks ached with the stretch from the force. "I came to you last night and I needed a friend, and what do you do? YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME! HIGH FUCKING SCHOOL ALL OVER AGAIN!" She picked up the other boot and this time he didn't get so lucky.

"Ow!" he yelped as it glanced off his naked shoulder. He scrambled for the foot of the bed, as far from her as he could get. "_I don't know_ what you're _talking_ about," he half-pleaded, half-defended, as he grasped for his clothes. The confusion on his face, and the plain hurt and wounded-ness of coming to and having such a wonderful night end in this fashion…if she could have taken it, she would have made him cry.

"GET OUT!" she screamed again, this time reaching for her own boots with their silver tipped toes. She brandished one at him like a weapon. "You sick…bastard! You jiggalo! You cheating _slime!"_

He was pulling his pants on, and in the effort he'd turned his back to her, attempting to preserve some part of his male pride. She took the invitation to start beating him on his bared back with the heel of her boot, and it left red welts. It was almost a shame to mark such a perfect sample of masculinity, but it gave her a vicious satisfaction that just spurred her on. "Hey!" he screamed, as the blows became harder. He tried to catch her hand, but she was way too fast for him, and too far ahead.

"You _used_ me!" she ranted. "I was vulnerable and in pain and you USED me! You're sick! _Just get out_! GET OUT!"

Bo managed to wiggle his way around her and get his shirt. Not bothering to throw it on, as her pounding was becoming more intense and he knew his shirt wasn't going to do anything to soften it, he threw open the door and took off at a dead run, a fox exiting a hen-house.

She followed him, screaming all the way. "Son of a bitch!" she hollered. "Asshole!" And a bunch of other colorful insults not fit to print.

**Balladeer: Boy, that girl's got a mouth on her, doesn't she?**

Bo flew out the front door, only then realizing the stares he was getting. The humiliation of the moment was not lost on him, but instead of basking in it, he decided to do what any man in his situation would have done.

He made for the nearest set of bushes and disappeared into the surrounding woods.

Henna came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the stairs, right in front of the desk. Shelly looked at her, shock locking her jaw in place.

"Henna, _what the hell?"_ she managed. "Was that…did he…?"

"Yes, and _yes_," Henna said, her voice like steel. "That son of a –"

"Henri-Mae, customers!" Shelly barked. Henna glanced at the nice elderly couple that was sipping coffee in the small sitting room. They both looked like they were either ready to drop dead or jump up and cheer. Couldn't tell which.

"Sorry," Henna said. She stepped over to the desk.

"What happened?" Shelly managed.

"What do you _think_ happened?" Henna snapped back. "I took your advice and it blew up in my face!"

"I _said_ it was a bad idea!" Shelly whined.

"No shit!" She glanced at the old people. One of them had clasped a hand over an ailing heart. She lowered her voice. "Well, apparently Bo had different ideas."

"You mean…_he_? He was the one…who…"

"You'd better believe it," Henna said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I try to make peace and he wants to make out. Next thing I know…well, you _saw_ it."

"I did," Shelly breathed. Henna hid a smirk. Within an hour, it would be all over town that Bo Duke had seduced poor Henri-Mae who had just come back to town after her father's untimely death, and had been sent running when the newly-orphaned girl had come to her senses. One good ole boy's reputation effectively ruined.

It was just perfect.

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Bo did not get a warm reception when he got home. It was no secret that he hadn't come home the previous night. Uncle Jesse sat at the table, looking very stern.

Balladeer: Now it may be a common known fact that the Duke boys are all ladies' men, but if there's anything that Uncle Jesse has pounded into their heads over the years, it's to always show those ladies respect. And one-night-stands do not count as showing respect.

"Where the hell have you been?" Uncle Jesse asked as Bo came through the door, looking tattered and breathless, his shirt barely buttoned, hanging out at the waist of his jeans, and his boots covered with mud.

Bo did not know what to say. He had never lied to Uncle Jesse before, but there was no way he could admit the truth. Luckily, Jesse had been around the block many more times than years Bo was alive, and knew exactly what he was looking at.

"Sit down," he ordered his disheveled nephew. Bo miserably obeyed, head hung, hands on his lap. All he could hear was the heavy, labored breathing of Uncle Jesse trying to get himself under control.

Throughout the years, Uncle Jesse had strove to be a good role model to the trio he thought of as his own children. Part of that had been being wise enough to know when_ not_ to ask anything. But it was apparent, from Bo's burning cheeks and his manner of entering the house, like a fugitive, that wherever he'd been last night, and whatever he'd been doing, (or _whoever _in this case, Jesse added dryly) the situation hadn't ended well at all. Which meant there was serious potential for serious trouble – something the Dukes could not afford, not with Boss Hogg slavering at the jowls every other hour to get something on the cousins and put them away for life.

Still, the years of difference…getting Bo to talk about what had happened would be like opening a can of sardines with his teeth. Nearly impossible and extremely painful. Jesse cast his eyes across the table to Luke, who was watching both his cousin and his uncle warily, trying to measure out the situation.

"You talk to him," Jesse said finally, rising to his feet. He shuffled toward the door. "I can't hardly look at him right now."

**Balladeer: Boy, Uncle Jesse is maaaaaaaad.**

Daisy took the cue. "I'll be doin' the laundry if you need me," she said, excusing herself.

Luke drew in a breath, taking in Bo's appearance once more. But the removal of the female and elder of the house had made some of the tension in his body ease up.

"All right, Bo," Luke said plainly. "What happened."

Bo shot him a look. "You told me to go talk to her."

"_Talk _to her," Luke stressed. "Not…" he flapped his hand at Bo, "whatever you two were doin'."

Bo sighed, slumping even further in his seat. "God, Luke…I don't know…I don't know what happened."

"You don't?"

"Well," Bo pulled himself upright, pride kicking in. Bo had a deep-set need to explain himself away, to make everything fit in nice and tidy in his little Bo-Universe. "I was talking to her, and we were getting along, and it was nice…not like it used to be, it was awkward, I mean, I just kept thinking about all those years and how close we were…"

"Yeah..." Luke said, wanting to speed the reminiscing up a bit.

"Well, she asked me to put my arm around her. And the next thing I knew, she wanted me to kiss her. I can't say I didn't _want_ to, Luke…I mean, I don't know what got into me, but all I wanted was to kiss her, and somehow she got me to say I'd do anything for her, and after I started kissing her she asked me to do…other things. Whenever I'd try to say no, she'd just bring up that I'd promised to do anything, and…well…"

"Bo," Luke said with a shake of his head. "How in the _hell _could you let a girl _sucker _you like that?"

Bo shrugged his shoulders. He'd never in his life had a girl attempt to sucker him before. He'd always been the one doing the chasing, he'd liked it that way, it gave him control. "I don't know, Luke," he said, distant. "All I could think of was how angry she was at me for so long, how much her running away hadhurt, and how I had a chance to make things right. I just got so caught up—"

"You got caught up all right," Luke said, "right into her bed. Well, then what happened?"

Bo had to bring himself back. The mere mention of the word "bed" had brought on a host of flashbacks from the night before, and he was pretty damn sure that he had never spent a night like that in his life. And yet with Henri-Mae it had felt as natural as jumping the General over a creek. Hell, a dozen creeks.

"Well, I woke up when she started throwing things at me," Bo said. "Shoes, mostly. She told me to get out, screamed all kinds of hell at me, told me I'd taken advantage of her…" Bo shrugged again, helpless. "I only did what she wanted."

"In a female's mind, sometimes those are the same things," Luke said with a heavy sigh, sitting back in his chair. "Did, uh…anyone _see _you?"

If Bo flushed any darker he was going to turn purple. "She chased me down the stairs of the hotel," he said. "Yeah, I think we were seen. And heard. And probably felt in a few surrounding counties."

Pressing his hand against his forehead,a dozen unpleasant thoughts went through Luke. At the least, this gossip was going to get all over town and do a lot to tarnish the Duke reputation. Sure, they were ladies' men, but they weren't perverts. And worst case scenario, Henri-Mae could decide to go to Rosco and press charges, and God-knew what kind of charge she would cook up, and Rosco would be only too glad to see it carried out.

"So what do I do?" Bo asked in a small voice.

"My advice?" Luke said, his thoughts not quite ordered yet. "Go to bed. Stay out of town for a few days. And whatever the hell _else_ you do, _don't_ go anywhere near Henri-Mae. Lie low and maybe all of this will blow over."

"You think?"

"Not yet," Luke said. "Gimme some time. Go on, you're exhausted, go try and rest."

Bo stood up, and Luke noticed that the man was trembling slightly. This struck him as extremely strange, as Bo had never shown even the merest sign of fragility. To see him brought so low…it was heart-wrenching. He didn't even attempt to argue the point of lying low as he crawled off to his own bed, where no footwear of any kind would be thrown in his general direction.

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A/N: Winged Seraph called it, as she usually does, and some of you others did, too. Now I'm ready to hear all the hell I'll get over it. Although, believe me, that first scene was FUN to write! Maybe I'm just twisted that way, LOL.


	5. I'm Not A Tender Head

Disclaimer: Uh, you guys still there? And thankfully, none of you are going to sue me...hopefully...:)

A/N: All right, I have no excuse. I simply forgot last night. So here's your update, possibly the longest chapter of the series. It's a bit of a flashback, but if I have to tell you that then apparently I'm not a very good writer...:) Anyway, thanks for all the feedback, and if you want an answer, you have to Log In. THe anonymous reviews are fine, etc., but if you want an answer...well, now that fanficdotnet has this cool reply to review thingie, we may as well take advantage of it.

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The first time had been on a rainy afternoon, a mere month after her eighteenth birthday. She and Bo had been at the lake, Bo with some cock-eyed idea about them going fishing together. It was very close to resulting in a session of skinny-dipping, although neither of them really had the nerve to go that far yet, when it started to rain.

Not just rain. _Pour._

Her house wasn't far away. Her father was gone; out for the day playing Bingo with some others in town, before Boss Hogg had taken so much of the cut that the game was no longer considered worth playing. He wouldn't be back for hours.

She knew he'd kill her if he found out, but she didn't care – they were wet, she simply couldn't let Bo wander home and risk him getting a cold, could she? So she sent him into the bathroom with a towel and told him to dry off, and went to go change. When she came back, Bo was shirtless, a condition which always suited him, and he had his head hung over and was vigorously rubbing his shaggy mane with the towel. When he stopped and popped his head back up, the blond locks nearly stood on end in a horrible tangle of a mess.

She laughed. He smiled at her. "What are you laughing at?" he said, although he knew perfectly well.

"Here," she sighed, coming close to him. His shirt hung on the shower rack behind them, nearly transparent with all the moisture. It was going to take forever to dry. She picked up her brush and delicately began picking through the knots, little by little restoring his hair to some semblance of order.

"You don't have to be so gentle with me," he said, standing still and letting her work, his eyes following her face, as much as she tried to keep her own eyes on her task. "I'm not a tender-head."

"No, you're a soft skull," she murmured. He responded by tickling her, but she jerked back, annoyed. "Stop it! I'm working!"

"Are you?" he mocked. "I can't hardly feel anything."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but kept on untangling. Soon, she was smoothing down his hair, and surprise lit his eyes when he felt the brush against his scalp. He glanced at the mirror and saw her handiwork.

"Wow," he said. "You're good."

"With hair like mine, I have to be," she replied, setting the brush down. "What about your jeans?"

"You want me to take them off too?" he asked, one eyebrow arched and the mischief dancing across his face.

She instinctively pursed her lips to say no, but stopped. "I mean, if they're too wet to sit in, or if you need to change."

"Well, nothing on but my knickers underneath, not much to change into." That mischief was still there, darkening every second.

She felt a thrill through her stomach. It jolted down to her knees. "I swear, Bo," she heard herself say, "you make the knees of my bees weak."

He encircled an arm low about her waist. She found herself pressed against him and realized that his jeans were not that damp, but actually rather dry and warm. Or maybe that was just body heat. Being this close to him did nothing to help the sensations in her stomach. They seemed to double over and intensify.

She let out a long sigh, and had the distinct pleasure of watching it run over the exposed skin of his neck, making him shiver slightly.

"If it makes you feel any better, Henri," he said, his voice a murmuring whisper against her cheek, "you scare the hell out of me."

It was her turn to arch an eyebrow at him. "I do?"

He nodded. Both arms were around her now, slipped under her own, lying against her sides so she could feel the softness of the downy blond hair on them against her ribcage, even through his shirt. While he wasn't terribly muscular, he certainly had muscle in those arms, and she could feel the strength radiating from them. "I've waited to tell you this…but, when I first saw you hanging out at my locker, I almost…well…" He gave a toothy grin and a mild chuckle. "It was enough to make me wet myself."

Her lips suddenly pursed in restrained laughter. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

He just kept smiling down at her, totally unselfconscious. This was not the Bo Duke who strutted like a rooster for the girls, winked unabashedly at any flirtatious smile thrown his way. She was totally amazed to find this layer there, having dismissed him as just a pretty-boy who took all the action he could get. She had long since started to suspect there was more, but _suspecting_ and _knowing_ were two different worlds.

"I first noticed you hanging out at the practices," he went on, his voice low and melodic. "You kind of stand out, looking like a biker chick. But I thought you were the prettiest girl around. Everybody told me that you were just trouble looking for a place to happen, but I didn't care. I didn't even think you'd be interested in me."

She let out a choked giggle. "Then what did you think I was hanging around for?"

"None of us knew. We were trying to figure out if you were interested in one of us, and for a bunch of guys who think you're just trouble, let me tell you, there was some serious debate."

She found herself blushing. "Oh, you're full of shit."

"Nope, not at the moment," he went on, undaunted. Even though he didn't like it when she swore, he also knew that it was just a part of who she was. Usually the only sign of his disapproval was a slight wince, but he didn't even give that. He leaned down and softly kissed her cheek, a gesture of pure affection, slow and loving. "And when I saw you hanging around my locker that day, and realized it was me…well…" He shrugged. "I don't know, I guess it was denial for a while."

"Ah-huh," she said, eyeing him. "That's why you started flirting with every girl within ten feet of you?"

"No, I do that anyway, this time I made it twenty feet." He grinned at her a bit wider as she shuffled against him, but he held fast, pressing her even closer against his chest.

"You bad boy," she whispered.

"I tried," he said. "I figured you wouldn't stay interested if I didn't make it challenging. Now I don't even look at another girl."

"Yeah, _right_."

"Yes, right," he corrected her, dead seriousness on his face. "I promise. On my honor as a Duke."

She bit her lip. It was a bit embarrassing, having him so vulnerable like this, and yet it made her giddy beyond comprehension. "Well," she said after a considerably pause, "it certainly worked, Bo. I went through a lot of trouble to catch you, and I don't think I want to let go."

"Huh? You thought you'd love me and leave me, right?"

He was joking, but she buried the seriousness behind those words. _Notch in her belt indeed_. How could she let this beautiful creature go?

"You've still got a lot to prove, Bo Duke," she said, covering up for her sudden discomfort by going on the offensive. "I've seen you smile at way too many girls prettier than me for me to believe you." She started to turn away, taking advantage of a momentary lax in his arms, but he caught her again, pulling her so that her back rested against his chest.

"Smiling is harmless," he whispered in her ear. His lips trailed a line down the sinews in her neck. She shivered, a sudden burst in her lower area, sending icy tingles throughout her spine. Nobody had ever made her feel that way before, not ever, and she'd made out with her fair share of boys. Usually it was simply hunger for flesh on flesh and the mockery of affection she strove for, but to be suddenly confronted with the real deal was…unnerving.

"Bet you say that to all your girlfriends," she said, her voice unsteady.

"Hm-mmmm," he hmmmed, his lips now on her exposed shoulder. She felt the sensations start to twist and mutate, and her brain seemed ready to burst open and lose every semblance of sense she had ever had. Her original plan…it seemed like such an immature joke now. She'd done lots of things with boys, but she had never gone so far as to actually lose her virginity. The appeal of Bo Duke and his reputation had intrigued her into wanting to know for sure if he truly was experienced, or if he was just another innocent playing a game. Her plan to sleep with him seemed so childish now. Brag about being the girl who deflowered Bo Duke, even if he was the one who deflowered her too. Now she just wanted him, as close to her as possible.

With a sudden burst of strength, she broke loose from his arms, catching a glimpse of his sleepy surprise before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hallway to her bedroom. He was in the middle of the room, looking around rather bewildered, when she pushed the door shut behind them and quickly turned the lock. The click made him look at her.

"What's…uh…" He was blushing, smiling, hands going into his pockets, a sure sign of discomfort mingled with pleasure. "What's going on?"

She stepped closer to him. Her hands were hot against the bare skin of his abdomen. "Have you ever done it before, Bo?" she asked, sounding to her own ears like a little girl.

That blush spread down his neck and onto his chest. He was going to be a giant red beet by the time this was over. Sure enough, the boy had never done it. She felt a thrill of victory, then had it squelched by the fact that he had possibly been in this situation before and had managed to escape it.

"Well," he said, rubbing his neck in nervousness. His skin twitched wherever her fingers touched it, and yet he did nothing to push her away, "Uncle Jesse always said…it wouldn't be right unless…you were in love, and…well, he says I'm too young to be in love."

She almost scowled. Her own father had said the same thing many times. But his wife had left him. _So much for love_. Still, she nodded, loosening her grip on him but not removing her hands.

"I guess he's right," she said. "You shouldn't unless you love the person. I guess." Her voice trailed off, and her fingers almost slid away from him. Then his arms were around her neck, pulling her closer.

"Henri-Mae, I want to," he said, his blue eyes wide and looking down into her face. "I know Uncle Jesse thinks I'm too young to be in love, but I know I've never felt this way about a girl before."

She twisted her lips up at him. That was a standard line. "Maybe you just haven't been around enough girls," she quipped.

He pulled her closer, her chin practically resting against his chest. "I've been around plenty," he said. He glanced around the bedroom. "Even been in their rooms, once or twice." Suspicions confirmed, she told herself. "But I've never once wanted to stay."

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. He was either acting or he was stupid. "Liar," she said, her voice soft but not harsh.

"Swear it on my life," he said. "Older girls, mostly, back when I was a sophomore. Thought they could put notches on their belts. But I wanted to wait until I felt right about a girl."

She almost snorted, but it came out as a much softer noise in her opinion. "And do you feel right about me?"

He looked toward the door, his fear at it suddenly bursting open and destroying the moment clear on his face. He looked back down at her. "Yes."

She almost laughed. At least it made her a bit more in-control of the situation, she thought. She slid the flat of her palms up his sides and dug her nails slightly into his shoulder blades. "Well, want to find out what comes next after necking?"

He grinned at her. "Well, I certainly never mind the necking part…do you think we have enough time before you dad comes back to find out?"

She stepped away and over to the bed. "Let's find out."

Find out they did. She had discovered that day that control was an illusion. She had thought that at any moment she could pull away and throw cold water over the whole thing if he showed the slightest resistance, or if she felt the merest inclination to leave him hanging. But emotions and hormones were too powerful, and before she knew it they were both naked and seeing parts of each other they had never seen on anyone – except maybe in pictures they weren't supposed to be looking at. It had been a childish imitation of an adult act, and not exactly complete, as neither one seemed to have quite enough steam to go all the way. Henri-Mae had found out how boys liked to touch themselves, even though she had long since suspected, and Bo, well…Bo discovered with his fingers what the inside of a girl felt like.

And it had been nothing like last night, Henna thought ruefully as she absently picked at her lunch. Sitting in the small dining nook of the boarding house, she was grateful to be alone. She just didn't want company, not Shelly, not anyone…

Her brain drifted. Shelly had mentioned that Lula Marie still lived in town. It would mean having to ask Shelly for the address. But, Henna reminded herself, Shelly was her friend and was on her side.

So why did she feel so…uncomfortable? Was she feeling guilty?

All it took was a single flash of memory, finding Bo with that little blonde twat in the hayloft in the Duke's own barn, and it was enough to burn any guilt away. Bo had gotten what he deserved.

She would go see Lula Marie. The girl had always had more brains than all of them put together. She would put things in perspective.

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**Balladeer: Lula Marie Pricket had gone away to college and gotten degrees in so many fancy things that she had become a one-woman business. While she worked sometimes at the General Store, it was more for the people skills than worrying about management. After having bought the store she pretty much just let business run as usual. But Lula Marie was gifted at the modernized computer, and had single-handedly brought Hazzard into the twenty-first century. Well, as much of it as would come. The rest was still kicking and screaming.**

Lula Marie lived in the apartment above the General Store. At the moment, the store looked to be under some kind of construction, the old green paint in the process of being scraped off. There was a grand picture sitting on the front porch, showing what the store was going to look like when it was done. It was going to be a deep brick-red trimmed with pale gray, and it was going to be renamed "Pricket Market." It was also going to be a bit wider, as the older building next door seemed to under much more intense construction, the inside being gutted and the windows being replaced.

Henri-Mae went inside, not sure how else to proceed. She smiled at the man standing behind the counter, who eyed her warily. "I'm looking for Lula Marie?" she asked. "I'm an old friend from high school, Henri-Mae Locke?"

The man's face lit up. Already word had gotten around town, and as much as Henri-Mae had thought she would enjoy the sympathetic looks, she didn't. "Oh, Ms. Locke!" the man said, his nametag reading "Walter." "I was so sorry to hear about how you've been treated." He scowled. "We don't treat people like that in Hazzard, I promise you."

She nodded, blushing. "Uh…just tell me where I can find Lula Marie and I'll be fine," she said.

He pointed toward a door that had a buzzer sitting right beside it. "Ms. Pricket is upstairs. Just ring that bell and she'll answer you through that speaker. Fancy contraption, but it works." He smiled at her and patted his arm. "Hope you won't leave us too soon, will you?"

She shook her head, smiling awkwardly as she stumbled away. So much for the self-confident woman who had strode into any nightclub she wanted in New York for almost a year of her life. She pressed the button a bit too harshly.

"Yes?" came a familiar voice.

"Lula Marie?" Henna ventured. "It's Henri-Mae Locke. Can I come up?"

There was a shocked silence, and then a distinct shuffle of someone coming down the stairs in a hurry. The door clicked and then opened and Lula Marie, looking a bit older and much more neatly put together, stood in the stairwell, staring at her in shock.

"My God, it _is _you!" she cried, her arms going around Henri-Mae's neck. She pulled her into the stairwell, gripping her hand as she led her up the stairs. "I've been hearing all sorts of things, but when you're in my line of work you believe nothing until you have some proof."

At the top of the stairs, Henna immediately realized what Lula Marie was talking about. There were at least three computers, each at their own workstations, each designated for an obviously distinct purpose. With the amount of information she had access to on a daily basis, it probably did not pay to listen to rumors.

It filled Henna with a small sense of relief.

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A/N: Yeah, I know, only one appearance from the Balladeer, but somehow I didn't find him appropriate during the long flashback. So...there ya go. REVEIW! (puppy eyes) Please?


	6. You Boys Never Do

A/N: Yeah, I'm late again. If people were paying me, I'd feel guilty, but as it is...no money, no obligations:) ;p I'll be stepping the updating up to every three or four days so I can have it finished before Christmas (hopefully). This is six, so there are only four chapters left.

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"So how are you?" Lula Marie asked, sitting Henna down in a comfortable chair in the small living room, lushly furnished even for its small size. "It's been ages!"

"It has," Henna said as Lula Marie went to the kitchen and pulled out a pitcher of her family's famous lime-aid. She remembered afternoons sitting around Lula Marie's bedroom drinking glass after glass of that stuff, reading magazines and talking until she was nearly blind and mute. "You look great."

"Oh," Lula Marie scoffed, handing her a tall glass brimming with the pale green liquid. "Me, I've been such a house mouse. You look fantastic."

Henna blushed, taking in Lula Marie's appearance. The girl had always been blessed with a skinny figure, and she had cut her short dark hair even shorter, where now it rode against the base of her skull. She appeared in all ways smart and savvy, but there were wrinkles where wrinkles should not yet be. Apparently Lula Marie had chosen to be a house mouse for a particular reason.

"Thanks," she said as the other woman sat down. "So I hear you're a big-shot now, trying to update Hazzard into the computer age?"

"An impossible task, I promise you," Lula Marie agreed. "But even Boss Hogg has to admit that I make things a lot more efficient. Not that he likes that, of course. He liked things simple and corrupt as they were."

Henna laughed. "Well, at least some things never change."

"No they don't," the other said, eyeing her friend, "So what have you been up to?"

"Oh…stuff," Henri-Mae said vaguely.

"Don't try that with me," Lula Marie said, her smile still in place but a tone in her voice. "It's been seven years, not more than a post card from you now and again. No return address. Where the hell have you been?"

"New York," Henna replied, never able to lie to Lula Marie. "Got in and out of quite a few interesting jobs. I spent a year living in luxury's lap before it all came crashing down, and then I got word that Daddy was sick, but by the time I got it, it was too late. He had died before I could get away."

She said it so matter-of-factly that Lula blinked in surprise. "So how long will you be in Hazzard?" she asked.

"Long enough to take care of some business," Henna replied.

"Business," Lula Marie echoed, and then paused, idly tapping a finger on her glass. "How are you holding up, otherwise?"

Henna stiffened. She knew it was a natural question. Someone's father died and grief was expected. "I, uh…" she stumbled. "I'm not sure."

"Well, if you need any help putting affairs in order, just call me," Lula said, squeezing her hand. "What did you think of the gravesite? I helped make the arrangements in your absence, I hope you don't mind."

Henna bridled further. "I…uh…haven't been down there yet."

Lula Marie fixed her with a gaze. "I thought you said you were taking care of some business…?" Her voice trailed off. "Hey, look, I'm sorry…this has got to be difficult for you. Here I go, ambushing you in my usual way. Some people think its part of my charm, but I know I'm a pain in the ass." She squeezed Henna's hand again. "You can talk to me, you know."

"About what?" Henri-Mae said absently.

Lula opened her mouth to reply, and then second-guessed herself. "Look, I know I'm probably going to get my head handed to me for this, but…how are you coping with your father's death?"

Henna just looked at her. This was certainly not the conversation she'd imagined having. She hadn't allowed herself to think much of her father since that morning waking up in the kitchen, after a night of uneasy dreams driven by grief and guilt.

"I mean," Lula went on, her tone a bit more careful, "I know that certain things went… unresolved. But you do know that your father loved you, don't you?"

Henna blinked, tilted her head, and continued to stare at Lula Marie blankly.

Lula drew a breath. "I see," she said, biting her lip, a clear sign that she was extremely worried. A hardened look crossed her face, once that Henna was entirely used to. It was disapproval, plain and simple.

"Dad's dead," Henna said finally. "I can't bring him back. I just have to tie up the loose ends and finish up some other business."

"Does this business include Bo Duke?" Lula asked. Henna would have choked on her lime-aid if she hadn't been expecting – no, _desiring_ the question.

"Maybe," Henna sighed.

"Henri-Mae," Lula said, her tone flat and serious, "I've heard this crazy story going around that Bo Duke took advantage of you in the boarding house and you chased him out by throwing shoes at him. Is that true?"

Henna shifted uncomfortably. If she had wanted to make a confession, she would have sought a priest. "Something like that," she muttered.

Lula Marie sighed. "Great. Well, if you wanted to soil his reputation, you succeeded. I've heard at least a half-dozen new words invented to describe the kind of scoundrel that Bo Duke has become, and none of them are fit to print."

Henna smirked. "Really?" she said, satisfied in spite of herself.

"Really," Lula Marie replied. "Henri-Mae, why did you do it? I mean, it's been seven years—"

Henna slammed down her glass on the coffee table and stood up. "I've gotta go," she said.

"Hang on a second!" Lula half-shouted, rising with her. "Now you knew this was going to come up when you came here. You can bullshit Shelly and even Tonya but you can't ever bullshit me. You wanted to say something, or hear something. Which is it?"

"Well, I'm apparently not hearing it, or saying it," Henna snapped.

"No, I think you are," Lula Marie said, folding her arms. "Look, I'm going to tell you something. I went out with Bo Duke."

Henna spun around, feeling as if she'd just had a sharp object imbedded in her side. "You—"

"See!" Lula Marie pointed at her. "I knew it! You're still hung up on him!"

"I am not!" Henna snapped back. While a part of her said that this was not what she'd come here for, and that she had to leave immediately, another part of her, buried much deeper down, said this was _exactly _what she'd come for, and she was going to take it.

"Oh, come on!" Lula threw her hands into the air. "We went out once and you react like I was his ex-wife! What he did to you was awful, trust me. I know that better than anyone. But seven years, Henri-Mae…he's a man now, what happened with you changed him. You just didn't stick around long enough to see it."

"People don't change," she said.

"They do when they have to," Lula pointed out.

"Please," Henna spat. "Have you changed? Have I? Or has Shelly or Tonya? Trust me, I was with Bo and he was the exact same Bo from seven years ago, only with a lot more notches on his belt. He deserved what he got."

Lula Marie nodded. "Well, you went about it awfully quick," she said, folding her arms again. "You didn't even take the time to find out _if_ he was even the same guy, and don't tell me you did, because I don't believe you. Not in the time span I heard about. If Bo was who you thought he was, he'd be the biggest cold-hearted bastard in all of Hazzard County, and I can guarantee you, _he's not_. The whole _town_ is hurt by what you did – yes, that's right, the _whole town_," Lula pressed at the indignant look on Henna's face. "He was a local icon and you turned him into a pervert. And he may be a player, but he's _not_ a pervert."

Henna shrunk. "I don't care," she whispered. "He…he broke my heart."

Suddenly, Lula was sympathetic. She crossed the room and went to Henna, her hands resting gently on her shoulders. "I know he did, baby," she whispered. "But you ran away. You never knew it, but you broke his heart, too, when you did that. If you'd just taken the time to find out…you could have saved everyone so much trouble."

Henna looked up at her, wounded. Then she felt her spine turn to steel. "I have to go," she said.

Lula Marie let go. "Yeah, fine. Look, my door is always open to you. My code is 7715. Come anytime."

Henna turned and pulled the door open, beating her way down the stairs without looking back.

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Bo spent the afternoon sulking around the house, feeling extremely irritated that he wasn't free to go jump into the General any time he wanted. Jesse attempted to keep him busy with chores, but it was little use – there just wasn't any way to shake Bo's black mood. Luke even tried every trick he knew, but nothing worked. There was no way to cheer Bo up.

A car pulled up into the drive, a familiar silver-gray civic that could only belong to one person. Lula Marie's dark head popped up, and she was holding a bag, heading straight for Uncle Jesse.

"I thank you kindly, dear," Uncle Jesse was saying as Bo listened from just inside the house, through the screen. "I wish I could pay you sooner—"

"It's not a problem, Uncle Jesse," Lula Marie said with a smile. "Pay me when you can."

Uncle Jesse smiled at her, a bit uncomfortable, but grateful all the same, and went about his business installing the rather expensive tractor part Lula Marie had managed to dig up for him through internet connections. She saw Bo standing in the doorway and waited.

"Hey, Bo," she said, her voice friendly, if not as cheerful as ever. Bo pushed the screen door open but didn't step out.

"Hey, Lula," he replied. "What's going on?"

"Not nearly as much as what's going on with you," she said, coming a little closer. "Come on out, I don't bite."

**Balladeer: Now you might be wonderin' why Lula Marie is so familiar with Bo, even if she did go out with him on one date. Well, that one date happened when Lula Marie returned from school three years ago, and it had happened exactly because Bo wanted to know if Lula had heard anything about Henri-Mae during those missing four years. Finding out that she didn't had been a disappointment, but Lula was always a bit sweeter on Luke than Bo, so she didn't mind.**

Bo hesitated, and then slowly stepped out of the enclosed porch and onto the sunlit steps. He made his way to where the General was parked and hoisted himself up on the hood, his usual comfortable spot. "So you don't hate me?" he asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Why would I hate you, Bo?" Lula said, her smile sympathetic. "You didn't do anything to me."

"Yeah, but Henri-Mae—"

Lula shook her head. "Look," she said with a deep sigh, "I know this is of small consolation, but you're just an innocent bystander whose become a casualty. None of this is about you, not really."

"What _is_ it about?" Bo asked softly.

"Her mother," Lula Marie said with characteristic bluntness. "Everything has been about her mother since she left them. Even back in the days, when you two were together. And right now, well…you were an easy target." Lula Marie arched an eyebrow. "A bit too easy, from what I heard."

Bo was tired of blushing, but he did it again anyway, right to the roots of his pretty blond locks. "Things…happen," he said.

"Uh huh."

It was tempting, to tell Lula Marie about that evening. About how Henri-Mae had been so warm and needy, how she had looked up at him with those eyes of hers like pale turquoise stones. How having her so close had brought back so many memories of happier times, of being warm beside her, lying in her bed…hell, he hadn't stood a chance.

"Well," she said, pushing herself away from the General, which she had been leaning against, "just to put your poor little head at rest, not everyone in Hazzard hates you."

Bo flinched.

"I mean," Lula went on, "almost all the girls either are mad just because they're jealous that Henri-Mae's still got her magic spell cast over you, or they're pissed at her for treating you the way she did. The rest are married so they don't care." She chuckled, coaxing a small smile from Bo. "Most people are just plain offended that such an unseemly act was exposed so publicly, regardless of who was at fault for whatever. And then there's the rather common opinion that Henri-Mae is just a trouble making bitch."

Bo flinched again at the insult was hurled inadvertently at Henri-Mae. He couldn't imagine thinking of her in such a crude, harsh way. Even as angry as he was, the more he thought about what she'd done.

"Bo," Lula said suddenly, "why the hell did you sleep with her?"

**Balladeer: That's just one thing you gotta know about Lula Marie. She ain't afraid to take the bull by the horns. True, she may make people mad, but they all know that she's usually right, and it never bothers her none.**

Bo looked at her, at her pained expression. "I don't know," he said.

"You boys never do," Lula said dryly. "I suppose it's a man's conversation we're having—"

He wanted to say yes, it was, but the words wouldn't come out. He wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to talk to Lula. Part of it, he was sure, was the connection she had to Henri-Mae. In fact, just about every since encounter he'd ever had with her had had something to do with Henri-Mae. It was like Lula was his only hope of ever making things right…

"You still have feelings for her?" Lula pressed gently.

Bo looked away. "I thought I did. I haven't been able to sort my head out yet, not with all of this going on." He shifted away from her. "Yeah, I guess this is a man's conversation," he finally said, his voice low.

Lula shook her head, understanding. "Sorry, I just…well, don't worry, I won't break any confidences. Henri-Mae is my friend, but I know you're a good person and that this is all going to work out somehow." It sounded so lame, both of them thought it, but neither said anything.

"Uncle Jesse wants me to stay close to home for a couple of days," Bo murmured.

"Probably a good idea," Lula said, making her way back to her car. "But you've still got friends, Bo. Things will blow over before you know it." She winked at him before getting into her car. "Tell Luke I said hi."

"I will," Bo said, lifting a hand in farewell. She drove off down the dirt road, and Bo found himself thinking over her words…_a man's conversation_…

He went to go look for Luke.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, he said she said. Next chapter will be more interesting. Come back in three. :)


	7. For The Right Price

Disclaimer: Don't own, yadda yadda yadda...

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Henri-Mae was in such a bad mood that it didn't seem to matter that she had to set foot in her father's house. Her head felt so dark and gloomy that it had hardly any affect on her at all. It was strange, but her mother had once said that the best time to tell someone something really awful was when they were already upset—that way the could get all the bad feelings out at once and not break it down into tiny pieces. Kind of like ripping off a band-aid.

As she usually did when thoughts of her mother arose, Henri-Mae succinctly changed the subject…although there was no one to talk to except herself.

She looked around the kitchen, at the wet stains on the old, worn wood of the table where her tears still left marks, and set down the cardboard boxes she'd gotten from the back of Lula's store that morning. It was best to start in the kitchen, she thought. It was less personal.

That was, of course, before she started going through the cabinet of glasses and mugs, and old memories came unbidden in ways she had never imagined. She was about to have something akin to a nervous breakdown when the telephone rang.

"Hello?" she said, sounding like she'd just rolled out of bed.

"Hello!" came a thick, southern voice on the other side. "This is Henrietta Mae Locke?"

"Yes?" she said, memories prickling at her. Did she know this man? How did he know her?

"This is Jefferson Davis Hogg, Boss Hogg," the man said, sounding as if his chest were pumped full of pride at just his own full name. "I wanted to express to you my deepest, most sincere condolences on account of your loss. Your father was a fine, fine man, highly respected member of the community, and he will be mourned by us all."

She twisted her lips. Something about this Boss Hogg…he was one hundred and eighty degrees away from any kind of older male figure she'd ever had in her life. Not even the crooks who'd attempted to take her under wing had managed to ooze this kind of sugar-sweet slime. And yet it was endearing, in a peculiar way.

"Can I help you, Mr. Hogg?" she said.

"I just wanted to see if there was anything you needed," Hogg went on, oblivious to the clipped tone of her voice. "I know that you're in the process of taking care of your father's affairs and such matters can be difficult, I understand."

She wanted to snort. She glanced around the room. No way she could tell the truth – that every time she even walked into this house, she nearly had some kind of emotional fit. "Well, you know how it is," she said.

"If there are any particular legal matters you wish to settle, I want you to know that you're welcome to avail yourself to my own personal law firm, Hogg and Hogg."

She scowled. "I thought you were the county commissioner, Mr. Hogg," she said.

"Well, I'm sort of a chameleon," he said, more of that pride. "I attained a degree in paralegals and am authorized to give any kind of legal advice necessary, in lieu of an acting attorney in these parts."

Somehow that didn't quite gel. "Uh huh," she said, stalling. "And what kind of legal advice do you think I might need, Mr. Hogg?"

"Well, there is the matter of your father's will." Now the greed oozed in – she smelled it over the phone wires. It was almost refreshing, having some good old fashioned underbelly in this town full of good-doers. "Your father had long since paid off the mortgage of his farm, and now you are the sole owner of his property. Such a situation can cause all kinds of complications, you know—"

"Yeah," she said, catching on quick. "Like, how much can I sell it for?"

"Oh, you're thinking of selling?" The innocence in his voice was so fake…"Well, although you could make a sizeable income joining the farming community, I didn't think that a city girl like yourself would want to invest her time and effort into such an enterprise. Selling the farm would make you a nice chunk of change, that is for sure."

"Uh huh," and now she was smiling, "any ideas in who might be interested in buying it?"

"Well…" He drawled, as if stalling himself. She almost snapped at him to spit it out, but to be honest, this was rather fun. "I have been looking into the purchase of some property myself for some time. Perhaps we could have a friendly conversation about it? In my office, in a few hours? Say, around two o'clock?"

**Balladeer: This does not bode well.**

She checked her watch. It sounded good…a plan was already hatching in her head and her exhaustion was catching up to her. A nap and some quiet time to think would fit into those hours just perfectly. "I'll be there, Mr. Hogg," she said, and hung up.

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"Why _did_ you sleep with her?" Luke asked. He was in the process of tearing apart an old junker that he and Bo had bought a few weeks ago, but until then hadn't had much time to pick at. Now that Bo was sort of confined to the farm, Luke had attempted to get his help, but Bo was a bit stuck.

And if there was anyone who had a chance of understanding how Bo's brain worked, it was Luke.

"Same reason I slept with her in high school, I guess," Bo said, dejected. "I…I wanted to. I've always wanted to."

"And no other girl's been able to turn your head like that?" Luke asked, letting the junker's hood come down with a soft bang. "Even after all the times you've fallen in love. Even with that Carnival girl?"

"Her name was Diane," Bo said. "And, well…" Truth be told, he didn't have much credibility when it came to matters of the heart. Then again, neither did Luke.

"You're just lucky Uncle Jesse didn't skin you alive," Luke muttered. "Underneath that beard he's got the Ten Commandments tattooed down his chest."

Bo ducked his head down farther. It just made this kind of confinement more difficult, knowing that Uncle Jesse was ashamed of him. "Don't keep reminding me," he mumbled.

"Sorry," Luke said, smiling sympathetically. "Look, I know what it's like, getting your foot caught in the door. I was that way with Roxanne. Look how that turned out."

Bo sighed. His brain was going back to last night again, at the feeling of having Henri-Mae's arms around him, how good and right it had felt. How they had started kissing, deeper and heavier, and how he'd tried to be reasonable and push her away, but she just kept coming. Not pushy, but softly, using her familiarity against him. And when she'd suggested, eyes as dark as coal and cheeks just tinted with an evening blush, that he go back to her room with him, he'd refused, a couple of times over.

"_Do you remember our first time, Bo?" she said. "In my bedroom, when my father was away? Of course, that wasn't really our first time, was it?"_

"_Henri-Mae, you're not yourself. I don't think it's right."_

_She chuckled, in a disarming way. "I think that was your line when we took that little 'camping' trip. I guess that's the first real time, isn't it?"_

"_I…I still have that tent," he said, in spite of himself._

_  
"You do?" The surprise in her eyes had shown so genuine. _

"_Yeah," he admitted. "I…uh…well, I don't use it…I just keep it under my bed…for… you know…emergencies."_

"_What kind of emergencies?" she teased, tugging at his jean waist. _

"_Not those kind!" he said quickly, feeling flustered. Girls didn't fluster him, he flustered them. But she had always had the upper hand on him, from minute one. "Just…you know…"_

"_As a keepsake?" she whispered. He could hardly believe himself when he nodded yes. She giggled. "That's sweet. And twisted," she added, in that old, familiar, bold-as-brass-tacks kind of way that he'd always loved about her. "Not many boys have the place of their first time complete with ready-to-assemble instructions." Then she shifted nearer to him, body heat invading body heat. "You ever…think about me? When I was gone? Pull out the tent for a little…reverie?"_

_He wasn't sure what to say. The thought of masturbation in mixed company, no less, was unspeakable, but the God's honest truth was, whenever he did, he could still smell the plastic of the tent, hear the nylon of the sleeping bags, feel the cold of the zippers as they brushed up against them. _

_She knew his reaction. But her voice turned small and vulnerable, and it nearly broke his heart. "Bo, did you ever think about me?" she asked. "While I was gone?"_

"_Every…every day," he managed over his own tongue. _

"_Don't you wish we could go back there?" she said, whisper soft against his neck, as she was so close to him now he couldn't see her, only feel her. "Back before it all…went wrong? Back when we were so happy?"_

_He nodded. He did wish. Every day he wished. Each time he smiled at a new girl, it was like a new possibility of going back to that place, finding that with someone again, having it back. But it never worked, he'd never commit…first of all because of how badly he'd messed up, and second because, well…they were not her._

"Bo?" came Luke's voice, shattering the memory of the moment he actually gave in, took her hand, and let her lead him back to the boarding house. "You with me, cousin?"

"Yeah," Bo muttered, but couldn't help but add silently_, unfortunately_.

"Look," Luke said, coming around to stand in front of him, where he was stretched out on the General's hood. "You want my advice, you have to be straight with me. You gotta tell me the truth. Are you upset because she's ruining your reputation with this story, or are you upset because you thought the two of you were getting back together last night, and that didn't happen? I mean, which is it? Because until you know that, you can't know what to do about it."

Bo took several moments to consider. He had lived with a reputation for years – that had never bothered him. Because none of it was true, and he could easily tune it out, because he knew what he was. But he could clearly remember, standing in her room that morning, feeling humiliated and betrayed, feeling angry at her for tricking him, making him think wonderful things and then yanking them away with the malice of a playground bully.

So what had made him leave? Why hadn't he stayed and fought with her? Guilt, he realized. Guilt over how he'd betrayed her years ago. Guilt over knowing how he had wronged her and had to live with that every day for the rest of his life. It had been pure gut instinct when it came to her to repent and run. The pain of doing otherwise was unthinkable.

"Hell if I know," Bo muttered, "but I think it's the second thing you said. About not getting back together."

"So you want to be back together with her?" Luke asked, one eye narrowed as if they were playing poker.

It was embarrassing to admit it, but just slightly, Bo nodded.

"Then you gotta fight for her," Luke said simply. "And the only way to win with a woman is to make her think she's won over you. You catch her on her own, nobody else around, and you call her on her crap. Then you completely throw her for a loop and give yourself up – tell her you'll do anything for her. Don't make it sound like you're begging her to take you back; that'll just give her fuel on her fire. Basically tell her that whatever she asks you to do, you'll do it. She'll be so stunned, after what's happened, she won't know what to say, and she'll probably get so confused she'll wind up throwing herself at you."

Bo ran this plan through his head. "I don't know, Luke," he said slowly. "This is Henri-Mae we're talking about. Chances are she'll tell me I have to run through the town square naked holding a sign saying I cheated on her and I'm a worthless dog who doesn't deserve to live."

Luke shrugged. "One thing I've learned about women is that you can't beat them at the game of pride. You might think yours is worth so much, but it's the one thing that'll keep you from getting what you want. You drop the pride and she'll give in, you mark my words."

"I'll think about it," Bo sighed, resting his head back on the windshield. But what he really wanted to do was take a nap, as he felt he'd been doing too much thinking as it was.

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By the time Henna made her way back to the boarding house, there was a message for her.

"Boss Hogg called," Shelly said, hanging her the note. "He wanted to know if you would stop by his office, either at the Sheriff's or at the Boar's Nest. Or just give him a call if you didn't feel like coming over."

Henna took the note silently and headed back up to her room. No doubt he'd called here first, looking for her, and then the house second. She crumpled the note and tossed it into her wastebasket. All she wanted currently was a nap.

It wasn't fair, she thought as she threw herself down on the old bed. The smell of Bo had not left it, making it apparent that the housekeeper had not changed the sheets but only made the bed. She was the victim here, ultimately. She was the one who was destroyed. Not Bo. Bo got exactly what he wanted, just like always.

_You can't go there_, she told herself firmly. It would just ignite everything again. Remembering that first afternoon in her bedroom, the "third base," as it was called, and then the night in the camping tent, both of them having made up some excuse to get out of their houses. The ground had been hard but Bo had brought extra sleeping bags, and she'd grabbed extra pillows, and the lumps of the earth under them had not even been felt.

She drifted in and out of sleep, thinking bitter thoughts of Bo with other girls over the years, of him making them do the things to him that she had shown him, that she had tenuously, for her, experimented on him, and how he had learned how to do things he'd only heard of in vague comments from Luke, and a few he'd never even imagined himself doing. When she awoke, the numbers on her clock blazed one forty-five, and she grumbled at herself, barely managing to stand up and get out the door without falling down the stairs.

When she reached Boss' office, the chubby man was waiting for her eagerly, chomping away on a brand new cigar he'd just lit from a fancy gold lighter on his desk.

"Miss Locke," he greeted her cheerfully, and she smoothed down her hair for the fifteenth time, and determined that it just needed a good washing. "Glad you could make it."

"Me too," she said, settling herself into a comfortable seat across from Boss' desk.

"You've had time to think about my offer?" Boss ventured.

"I have," she said, everything snapping back into ultra clear focus. "You wanted to buy my father's farm?"

"I was considering it," he mused, looking at his cigar between his sausage-like fingers. "For the right price."

She smirked. "Mr. Hogg, I certainly hope that you wouldn't suggest that I'd sell my father's farm, my family legacy and birthright, for less than it was worth."

"Oh, I'm sure not," he said with a smile. "And I know exactly how much it's worth." He slid a piece of paper across to her.

**Balladeer: Now to be honest, Henri-Mae had no idea how much her daddy's farm was worth, so she didn't know if Boss' price was fair or not. But she'd played poker and done other kinds of gambling in her short life enough not to let him see her twitch. Still, it seemed like a considerable amount of money. Then again, any amount does when you're flat broke.**

"Let's say I were to agree to this price," she said slowly. "There would be a few conditions."

He arched an eyebrow. "Like what?" he said.

She stood up, stretching her legs. Energy was flowing back into her, giving her thinking room. "Mr. Hogg, are you aware that I have a criminal record?"

The look on his face indicated that indeed, he_ didn't _know that.

She nodded. "Two years I spent in prison. Want to know what for?"

"What for?" he echoed.

"Grand theft," she said with a sigh. "I got off very lightly because the people I was working for had good representation. I kept my mouth shut, did my time, and earned my reward. The only reason I'm here is because my father died. But I'm not really planning on going back. That life has gotten a bit boring, and I'm looking for something a bit closer to the homestead. Problem is, it's hard to get a job when you have a criminal record, you know what I mean?"

He eyed her warily. "Well, if it's a job you need, that's no problem. We need a new waitress at the Boar's Nest since Cindy Lou quit."

She shook her head, nose wrinkled in disgust. The thought of working side by side with Daisy turned her stomach. She never could stand that girl. "No, I don't want to be a waitress," she said, looping her thumbs through her jean belt loops and turning toward the window.

Boss seemed to fluster for a moment. "Well, you'd have to understand why I would want you working at my bank, but there are lots of other businesses I own that—"

"How about here?" she said, looking at him over her shoulder. "How about you make me the new deputy?"


	8. John's Got A Friend

Disclaimer: Didn't think I'd keep ya waiting, did ya? Anyway...almost done. Two more chapters left. There's another stories in the series --okay, there are A LOT more stories in this series. At least three or four. So if you're interested, give a hollar. I'll probably post them anyway but it's always nice to feel wanted. :)

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"A deputy?" Boss echoed.

"Why not? I have experience with firearms and with criminals; that qualifies me, doesn't it? I'm loyal, I can take care of myself, and blue is a great color for me." She winked at him. "What do you think?"

He seemed to consider this for a long time. Honestly, she had expected him to blurt out something objectionable about a girl on his private arm of the law, but he didn't. He continued to chomp on the end of his cigar and regard her.

"Why you wanna be a deputy?" he finally asked. "What's in it for you?"

Her smile widened a touch. "Boss, it's no secret how much you hate the Dukes. I can personally assure you that I have no love for them either. And that any opportunity I get to make their lives miserable, I'll be sure to seize up on it."

Boss chuckled. "Want some payback for what Bo did to you?" he said, his voice a bit darker than she would have expected. "There's been talk all over town—"

She cut him off by leaning in close, almost across his desk. "What if I were to tell you, Mr. Hogg," she said, "that that whole thing was a set-up? That I put Bo up to what happened and then yanked the rug out from under him?"

"So you ruined his rep on purpose?" Boss half-whispered, in something akin to awe.

"Absolutely," she said with a Cheshire-cat grin.

He chuckled, and then bellowed a huge, belly laugh. "That is…something else!" he cried, standing up. "You wanna make the picture complete and press charges or something?"

She considered this. "I think what I've done is just cruel enough," she said. "If we try and go for charges, too many things can go wrong. Sometimes you have to know when to back off."

"A girl after my own heart," Boss said, laying his hand on his breast by example. "So, do we have a deal?"

"A few more things," she said, realizing she might be pushing it, but she didn't really have much to lose. "I want you to pay for getting my father's house cleaned out, before you mow it down. And I want free storage space for his things, until I'm ready to deal with them."

Boss flinched a little, did a few quick calculations, and nodded. "I think I can arrange that." He extended his hand. "Anything else?"

"Just your Ridge Runner's promise," Henri-Mae said, spitting into her palm. She stretched out her hand. "Do I have it?"

Boss grinned at her wickedly. "I do love a smart girl," he said, and spat in his own palm.

**Balladeer: Now if you're thinking that's a rather gross tradition, let me assure you that it's the surest way to make Boss keep his word, and Henri-Mae knew it.**

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"You're serious?" Shelly said, practically gawking at Henri-Mae over a table at the Boar's Nest, where the two of them sat with Lula Marie, who was not looking too thrilled. "You're going to work for the Sheriff's department?"

"God knows that place is corrupt enough," Lula muttered. Henri-Mae was too busy dousing her palm with alcohol to care.

"It'll be fun," she quipped. She winked at Shelly. "Besides, weren't you just telling me the other day that it would be nice to have me back in Hazzard, permanently?"

"Well," Shelly said, glancing toward the door, "I didn't think you'd take me seriously, after what happened."

"So you don't want me to stay?" Henna smirked. It was too easy to get Shelly riled up.

"No, no," Shelly said, sipping at her beer. "I don't know. The town's gotten pretty divided over this whole thing with the Dukes." She glanced around. "I'm surprised we haven't gotten some unkind words from those girls glaring at us over there."

Henna glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a small pack of country girls, shooting her the occasional dirty look. She closed her eyes slowly, a gesture of contempt, and turned back to the table. "They don't dare mess with me," she said. "Not after word gets around that I'm going to be a deputy."

Lula sighed, deeply. Henri-Mae didn't bother to ask her what was wrong. She knew well enough. But as was Lula's way, she was determined to just wait it out and say "I told you so," later.

The door to the Boar's Nest swung open, and a head of bright blond hair popped in. Henna started for a moment, and then realized that it was too long, and straight, hanging around a pair of artificially-tanned shoulders and a perfect, heart-shaped face. Dark green eyes scanned the room and landed on them, and Tonya let out a whoop in greeting.

The trio of girls stood up. This was what they had been waiting for, as the call had come to Shelly earlier that afternoon. Hugs were exchanged, particularly when it came to Tonya and Henna.

"Man, it's been a dog's age," Tonya said, her drawl much thicker than Henna remembered. "How are you?"

Henna looked at her, eyes slightly narrowed. If there had ever been any competition in her life in terms of boys, it had always come from Tonya. Quite frankly, to this day, she was surprised that Tonya had never made a play for Bo. It was even more shocking that it hadn't been Tonya Bo was found with that fateful evening.

Brushing it aside, Henna brightened her smile. "You look good," she said. "You been working out?"

Tonya shrugged one slender, tanned shoulder. She was dressed in a pair of close-fitting jeans and a bikini-like top, with a jacket slung over one shoulder and sliding down the other, showing off her shapely figure. "I take care of myself," she said. "And my job affords me lots of exercise."

"Stripping always does," Lula quipped.

Tonya mock-glared at her. "Exotic dancing," she corrected. She nudged Henna with her elbow. "If they want me to take my top off, it's a hundred dollars extra."

"Only a hundred?" Shelly muttered, and while it was not heard by Tonya, Henna did hear it and suppressed a grin. It was just like the old days – the best of friends and the worst of enemies. But that was just how girls were.

"You all ready to go?" Tonya said. "They're opening up this great new club in Capitol City and I've been dying to go for weeks now."

"You came down here from Atlanta to go to Capitol city with us?" Henna asked. "Isn't that a little bit…redundant?"

Tonya flashed her a bright smile. "Wait until you see my ride. Then you'll know why."

**Balladeer: And indeed the girls did. Tonya's got herself a brand new, candy-apple red convertible, and if I had one of those I'd drive the extra two hours to show it off, too.**

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"What?"

Bo stared blankly at Cooter, who was sitting in the driver's seat of his pick-up, come to take away what was left of the junker for Luke.

"Let me see if I got this," Luke said slowly, wheels in his head turning, "Boss Hogg is going to give Henri-Mae a job as a deputy?"

"Sure as the General Lee is painted orange," Cooter replied, tipping back the edge of his baseball cap. "Overheard Rosco griping about it to Enos when they came to pick up his car. Going on about having a girl on the department is a disgrace and all of that."

"But why…" Bo's jaw was slack, he could barely operate it. "Why would she want to do that?" he finally managed, swallowing.

Cooter and Luke exchanged glances. "What worries me more is why Boss Hogg wants her," Luke said darkly. "She's got a big mad-on for you, Bo. Chances are he's hiring her just to make trouble for us."

"There's gotta be a way to talk her out of it," Bo muttered.

Cooter shrugged. "Beats me. She brought her bike by the garage yesterday afternoon, she seemed like a nice enough girl, but the bike was in bad shape. She was talking about getting a new one, but the one she wanted was specially made by a friend of hers in Atlanta, and all she needed was the cash to pay for it. Which she didn't think she had much of a chance of getting."

"And she got it by selling Boss her father's farm," Luke said, folding his arms. "Wonder what he's going to do with it."

"Well, I'll keep you updated," Cooter said, starting his engine. "Keep it 'tween the ditches, boys."

Luke waved, but Bo was deeply distracted. Henri-Mae, a deputy. Same power as Rosco, Enos, Cletus…and working for a man who desperately wanted the Duke cousins back in prison. No doubt she'd put all those skills to work. She'd done an extremely fine job of it so far.

"Where are you going?" Luke called, as Bo made his way toward the General.

"I'm going to talk to Henri-Mae," he said over his shoulder, climbing into the driver's seat.

"Hell, I'm going with you," Luke said, scurrying to catch up. "Better to watch the fireworks than have them directed at me when Uncle Jesse finds out I let you go into town."

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Dark came fast, as the days were getting shorter. The sun was sinking below the horizon and dusk filled the sky with pink twilight as the cousins pulled into the Boar's Nest parking lot.

**Balladeer: First the boys went to the boarding house, but all they got was Shelly's husband Lloyd, who told them that they'd all gone into town at the Boar's Nest to meet up with Tonya, who was coming down from Atlanta so they could all go into Capitol City.**

"It's something they do once every month or so," he said as he sorted messages. "Now that Henri-Mae is back in town, it'll probably happen more often."

"Did they say where they'd be going in Capitol City?" Luke asked.

Lloyd looked carefully at Bo before answering. The younger man was pretty much a wreck, his hair disheveled and his eyes a bit wild. He looked desperate and frustrated. "Don't know for sure," he said, a bit cryptically.

"Look," Luke said, shooting a look at his cousin before proceeding, knowing that if he didn't, Bo might well pop and then they'd get nowhere, "whatever story is going around about Bo and Henna, it isn't true."

"Isn't it?" Lloyd said with a shrug. "A lot of us here witnessed the spectacle you two made a few days ago."

"Yeah, but it ain't how it happened," Bo said, his voice low. "Henri-Mae's out to get me for what happened between us years ago, in high school, and apparently she doesn't let go of grudges easily. Just pray you're never on the receiving end."

Lloyd smirked. He was a slender man, not much taller than Shelly herself, with very large, round blue eyes and a full set of lips. Which gave him the advantage of a vast array of expressions. "Well, you _did _cheat on her," he said. "With a cheerleader. Correct?"

Bo flushed red. "I was a kid," he said. "What the hell did I know?"

Lloyd shrugged. "True enough. Anyway, I'm sure that regardless of whether what happened in this boarding house was consensual or not, either one makes a nice scandal for the town to talk about."

"So how about giving them some more to talk about?" Luke said. "Let us know where they went. I'm sure the show that Bo and Henri-Mae will put on will have everyone in Capitol City talking, too."

Lloyd sighed, and reached under the counter. "Cash has been a little short lately," he said. "You two boys planning on racing in the Hazzard Derby next Saturday?"

"Do fish swim?" Bo replied.

"You two'd better win. I've got a bet placed on you." He pulled out a piece of paper, with Shelly's feminine script scrawled across it. A name of a club and an address. "Don't take it with you, memorize it," Lloyd instructed. "I know how Shelly and her friends can be. Almost every gray hair I've got is because of her."

Luke glanced at the man's fair brown head. "You don't look like you have any."

"Well, I'm anticipating," Lloyd said. "Good luck."

**Balladeer: You know, I think I like that Lloyd fella already.**

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It had been a while since Henri-Mae had been in a club. And Capitol City clubs were not like the thick, heavy New York clubs she'd been popping in and out of over the last half dozen years. It was smaller and not quite so crowded – there was still room to move and breathe, she remarked to Shelly, when the girl complained at the close quarters.

It took a bit to get Lula and Shelly warmed up. Neither of them were quite the attention whores that Henri-Mae and Tonya were prone to be, and it was fun to be with Tonya again, to be around a girl who had the same, "to hell with it" attitude that Henri-Mae sometimes felt. Okay, usually felt. But Tonya was, to be honest, much more bold than her friend, and was bumping and grinding with several complete strangers before the first two hours of the evening were over.

Shelly had shed her professional clothes, usually a matching skirt and jacket with a white blouse underneath, for jeans and a T-shirt that showed off her midriff. Ever loyal to her husband, she kept her wedding ring on and stuck to the thinner part of the crowd so as not to become a target. Lula, once she'd had a few martinis, was dancing close to her, and soon Henri-Mae joined them, having lost Tonya to a particularly muscular man who could dance like a boa constrictor.

Some time passed before Henna felt Tonya grab hold of her arm. "Hey!" she shouted into Henna's ear, "John's got a friend!"

Raising an eyebrow, Henna glanced over Tonya's shoulder to where the glistening man who had been wrapped around Tonya for most of the last hour stood beside another man, this one much dryer and obviously laid back, sipping a drink. Although his hair was much darker and his frame much wider, something in his face immediately reminded her of Bo.

He was pretty. That was it. The boy was completely pretty.

Tonya was dragging her across the floor and after a few seconds of this Henna shook her off and came willingly. She smiled at the stranger as Tonya promptly reattached herself to her new friend.

"Henna, Tom, Tom, Henna," Tonya said.

"Hey," Henri-Mae said, extending a hand. Tom shook it, his eyes just as blue, if not bluer, than Bo's. "So you're not dancing?" she said, figuring that her conversation skills were most likely not the reason she'd been called over here. She knew what she looked like in her slinky, low-necked top and skirt that would have rivaled Daisy's shorts for how much thigh it showed off.

"I prefer watching," he said, the arrogant glimmer coming into those baby blues. She widened her smile at him, finding his directness rather refreshing. After dealing with so much soul-searching country-boy attitude, it was nice to remember that there were still wolves in the world.

"Well, then you're in luck," she said, swaying her hips as another song came on, one she recognized and loved. "I'm in the mood to be watched." She winked at him and danced away, to where Shelly and Lula and some other girls had found a common rhythm and were swaying like cattails around a swamp on a breeze day.

A/N: Shelly and her husband Lloyd are being played by a couple in a movie from a recent obsession of mine. Doubt anyone will guess...if anyone is interested I'll reveal in the next chapter.


	9. Innocence Is Just A Memory

Disclaimer: Ah, finally someone who is open about her hatred for poor little Henri-Mae. Well, sometimes the people we hate are the people who fascinate us the most. :)

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Bo was glad, to be honest, that Henri-Mae and her cohorts had left town. If they'd still been in the Boar's Nest, he wouldn't have had the balls to go in there and face her head-on. Not that he wanted a scene. What he wanted was to get Henri-Mae alone so he could talk some sense into her.

Trouble was, he didn't have a clue as to how to do that. But rather than admit it and slow down, as would have been more like Luke, he was Bo, and he rushed on ahead anyway.

They had a bit of trouble getting into the club, as the bouncer at the front door wasn't keen on letting too many guys get past him, especially not "a couple of hayseeds," as he addressed the Duke cousins. Luke, always the one to find his way around a situation, got them in through the back, posing as a couple of security guards with jackets they swiped from a nearby truck.

Bo broke away from his cousin almost immediately, lost in the sea of moving bodies around him. He scanned the room with his eyes, but there were so many people, especially so many pretty girls, that for a few moments he nearly lost his head and went over to go and talk to one who was making eyes back at him.

That was when the people parted like Moses and the Red Sea. It was as if she spun out into a clearing in the floor, arms raised, lifting her shirt to expose just the tiniest part of her midriff, her long legs seeming as high as the ceiling. Her hair flounced forward as she came to a halt with the song, and while the music continued to grind on in rhythm, she had stopped and was laughing, pushing her hair out of her face. Skin glistening with sweat, she turned and started to walk away.

Bo couldn't swallow. He loathed himself, at this moment, for feeling the way he felt. It was like seeing her for the first time – relaxed, smiling, the lines gone from her forehead and the anger gone from her voice. The sound of her laughter, free and light, was nearly alien, it had been so long since he'd heard it.

He had used to be able to make her laugh like that all the time. That smile had used to be only for him.

He charged forward, following her. He saw her stop beside a man who looked about his age, dark where he was fair, face just as pretty as his, and she turned, leaning against the wall behind him.

"That was pretty impressive," the guy was saying, one hand resting on the wall just over her head. A possessive stance. Bo came to a halt just behind him.

"Excuse me," he said. He had the distinct pleasure of watching Henri-Mae's shock freeze her smile into place as her eyes settled on him.

The man glanced at Bo over his shoulder. "Get lost, she's taken," he said smoothly, and then showed Bo his back. "So what do you say to getting out of here?"

"Sounds good," Henri-Mae replied, expression tightening as shepushed away from the wall. Her eyes mocked Bo, as if daring him to do anything about it. "Suddenly the air in here isn't all that fresh."

"Excuse me!" Bo said again, feeling the anger flood his chest and clench his fists. His shoulders tensed and this inflated him slightly, and not being a stranger to a fight, the man knew instantly what was going to happen.

"I said to bug off," the man said coolly. "Henna, you know this guy?"

"Never saw him before in my life, Tom," she replied, her eyes meeting Bo's. "Get rid of him."

"Not in here," came a deep voice from behind. Every wary, the bouncers had caught wind of the tension and came quickly to prevent a fight. A very large bald man with a goatee was standing at Bo's shoulder. "You want to fight, you do it outside."

Tom shrugged. "After you," he said.

"No, I insist," Bo sneered at him. Tom shot a wink over at Henna and made his way for the exit. Bo followed at a few feet of distance, with Henri-Mae close behind.

The second they touched the sidewalk outside, Tom spun around with a balled fist and struck at Bo, but Bo was lean and fast. He ducked, and brought his fist right up into Tom's gut. The man groaned, doubled over, and another left hook landed him in a puddle at Henna's feet.

**Balladeer: _That_ doesn't surprise me. Henri-Mae was probably thinking her new city boyfriend would take out a country boy like Bo in a few punches, but Bo and Luke fight like a duck swims in water. I didn't have any doubt for a second.**

Henri-Mae's amazement was quickly turned into anger when Bo reached across the partly unconscious body and seized her arm, dragging her along with him down the street. "You redneck hick!" she screamed. "You brute! Let me go!"

"Not until you listen to some reason!" he barked at her over his shoulder, and the two of them promptly disappeared into a nearby alley.

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"What the hell?" Henri-Mae squawked, alarmed at suddenly having the object of so much emotion pinned up against her in that alley against a damp wall. She pushed against him, and might have managed to get some air between them if Bo hadn't grabbed her by her shoulders, getting his thumbs into her underarms, and pressing with all his weight. She was no longer flush against him, but she was very much trapped in place.

"My question exactly," he said, and the anger in his face was alarming. She hadn't really taken into account the possibility of Bo doing something like this – it was very unlike him. Had she pushed him over the line? The thought filled her with a peculiar kind of fear, but she steadied herself and tilted up her chin, eyeing him defiantly.

**Balladeer: Now let me assure you that Bo has never roughed up a lady in his life. That girl must have really gotten to him to make him act like this.**

"You –" she spluttered. "You bastard. How dare you? Let me go!"

"No way," he said, his grip tightening, nearly painfully. "Not until you and I have a few words on some more equal turf."

"I've said everything I have to say to you," she snapped.

"Well I haven't!" he barked. "And I don't count cursing at me and throwing shoes at my head as having words! Now what are you thinking? Why in the hell are you taking a job as a deputy? You trying to start more trouble?"

"Don't have to," she said, twisting her lips into a malicious smirk. "You and your cousin cause more than enough to go around."

He glared down at her. "You know perfectly well that I didn't take advantage of you," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "You know damn well what happened between us was entirely consensual. In fact, if someone had been perverse enough to tape the whole thing, it was _you_ who seduced _me_!"

She looked away, a blush tinting her cheeks. To be called on her shit in such close quarters was unnerving, but she wasn't about to back down. "Maybe I did," she said, whisper soft. "What does it matter? That's not what the town thinks. I accomplished my job. I ruined you."

The anger intensified, but his voice didn't rise. "Why do that to me, Henri-Mae? Didn't you break my heart enough when you skipped town?"

An eyebrow arched in surprise. "Break your heart?" she echoed. "Are you out of your mind? It was you who cheated on me, Bo Duke. You're the very reason I left town!" Anger lodged in her throat, choking her. She had left town…and gotten into trouble…and her father had died before she could come home…no, she couldn't think about it, not now…

Unexpectedly, his expression softened. "And I've hated myself for it every day since," he said.

She snorted. "Oh yeah, I'm sure you have. I'm sure all those other girls were just ways of punishing yourself."

"Well what do you expect!" he cried, then hushed his voice. "I didn't have you anymore." There was something in his voice that caught her attention, and she almost asked him to repeat himself, just to make sure she'd heard in right.

"And you just _missed_ me _so much_," she whispered.

"I did," he said, his grip gentling but still holding firm. "I lost you…all I had left in the world was my reputation, and now you've gone and ruined it."

"Yes," she said plainly. "I have. Now no girl will look at you without thinking of the stories about me. And wondering if you're just out to do the same thing to them that you did to me."

There was a pause. "Maybe I don't care," he said, his eyes on hers. Suddenly she was too aware of how close he was, of his body-heat, of the glimpse of the downy hair on his upper chest through the V in his shirt. He leaned a bit closer to her, and she couldn't understand why she was so uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Maybe it doesn't matter what any other girl thinks of me, ever again. Maybe it only matters what you think, Henri-Mae."

She frowned. "What are you on about?" she said, her voice wavering.

He smiled at her. It was not a kind smile – it held something wolfish in it, something that gave Bo an entirely different appearance, as if he were another man. "Come on, Henri-Mae. If you're still this angry at me after all this time, it means you're not over me. You never have been. And to be fair, I never got over you either."

Confusion contorted her face. Had he gone mad? She felt her body tremble, but not entirely with fear. He was closer now, she could smell him, and the memory of his naked body against hers danced in her mind, a tormenting demon intent on driving her insane. God, he had always been so beautiful. Every girl in the school had wanted him, and he'd picked her. She felt her chest tighten, a tingle run through her breasts as he brushed against them lightly.

Stubbornly, though, her will refused to submit. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His chuckle was like a growl. "What if we could both get what we wanted?"

"What we wanted?"

"You want me," he said, dipping his head to let his breath trail over her neck. "You can't hate someone as much as you claim to hate me if you don't love them. It's just not possible. Well, you can have me. All yours, each and every day, to do as you please."

She swallowed, and it was difficult. "And what do you get out of it?"

That smile. Now it showed teeth. "Well, I get you, of course."

She stared at him, wondering if she was insane. But years of being on her own had knocked a good amount of her naiveté out of her head, and innocence was just a memory. There was no way this could be for real. The Dukes shucked and jived with the best of them, and this had to be a scam.

Boy, little Bo Duke really had changed since she saw him last.

She matched him, then, wolfish grin for wolfish grin. "You really are unbelievable, aren't you?" she said, laughing softly.

He hadn't expected her comeback. "What do you mean?"

"Trying to play me," she murmured.

"I'm not playing," he said, and she almost believed it. Pride was a harsh mistress.

"Bo, haven't you considered that I've already got what I want? I have your balls on a plate. I haveyou so desperate to _'stop me,'_ whatever the hell that means,that you're willing to stoop this low. But quite frankly, I'm starting to think it's my life's mission to make your life and the life of every Duke miserable."

He looked pained. "What did my family ever to do you?"

She let out a sharp laugh. "They're Dukes, Bo. All Dukes are the same, each and every one of you. Lula's been in love with Luke for years, does he give her a second glance? Ms. Tisdale would throw herself into the path of an oncoming train for Uncle Jesse and he won't so much as give her a smile at the post office. And Daisy – Enos would die for her. Does she care? No." She shook her head. "All of you are the same. You think you're better than everyone. Maybe Boss is right. You do need to be taken down several notches. As many as I can manage."

He stared at her, horrified. He had never heard such an open declaration of war before. "You really think that?" he breathed. She nodded, eyes meeting his evenly. He let go of her then, stepping away. "Then I guess there's nothing more to say," he said.

"Nope," she replied, resisting the urge to rub the circulation back into her arms.

Bo nodded, looking very small and defeated in the moonlight. If nothing else had gotten to her, that sight nearly broke her then and there. But she held her breath and stood firm.

"Then we don't have anything more to say to each other," he whispered.

"Except goodbye," she said, folding her arms. Bo slunk away, back to the General Lee, where Luke was already waiting.

"How did it go?" Luke asked as Bo got into the car.

**Balladeer: I think one look at Bo's face will answer that question.**

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	10. Sanity, Reinvented

Merry Christmas! Or maybe Merry one-hour-and-twenty-minutes-after Christmas! Double update, and THE END! Sequel? Dunno. Let me think about it...

Warning: Bo may seem a teensy bit Out Of Character (or OOC for you who speaka-de-lingo) but remember, in Henri-Mae's memories, he's just a teenager, and if you've seen the first season of the Dukes of Hazzard, Bo wasn't always a sweetie. Sometimes he could be a rather annoying and rather spiteful, if adorable, little cuss. :)

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One did not go from being insanely in love and wanting to marry someone to suddenly wanting to date other people. That was why she hadn't really taken him seriously when Bo suggested it. In fact, Henri-Mae had been too stumped to be angry.

Wasn't this the guy who curled around her in that camping tent, through a chilly late spring evening, and talked about getting married? She had been the voice of reason in that conversation, thinking it was only afterglow going to Bo's head. It had gone away, until one afternoon toward the beginning of summer, when school was winding down and there was more free time, lunches seemed longer, and the shade was more precious.

Stretched out on a tattered old picnic blanket that Henri-Mae kept stored in her locker, Bo lay on his side with Henri-Mae sitting beside him, but mostly leaning over him as they kissed. Occasionally they were joined by Tonya, who was never bothered by the semi-public displays of affection. Shelly and Lula Marie were much more "grossed out," although Lula Marie claimed in private moments that it just didn't feel right, being around two people who were playing "tonsil hockey."

Bo had his hand wrapped around the back of her head, ran his fingers up and down the side of her neck, occasionally threading them through her hair, then pushing it out of the way to have access to her skin. It was hard sometimes, not getting carried away, but Bo seemed to relish the tension between them, and she quite enjoyed the prospect of getting caught at any moment, doing something extremely improper.

"So did you think about what I said?" he asked her, pulling away only the slightest bit.

"What you said about what?" she asked, feeling drowsy. Memory failed her.

He looked at her, quite seriously. The smile never faded from his lips – she often chastised him for continuously wearing that "silly grin" – but it took on a much more somber air. "About marrying me. Did you think about it?"

"Did I think about marrying you?" Her brain went back to that night, going on three weeks now. "Bo, I didn't think you were serious."

He frowned, only slightly. "Why not?"

"Well, because!" she spluttered. Then she giggled, softening the harshness of her reaction, leaning in to brush her lips against his. He accepted but didn't move to return it. His eyes watched her, still quite sober. "Come on, Bo…we'd just had sex," she added, in an undertone.

"That's not what I'd call it." That look on his face was driving her crazy.

"What would you call it, then?"

"Making love," he said, straight-faced.

She cocked her head to one side, considering. "Do you love me?"

He let out his breath between those pink, pouty lips. "Didn't I say that?"

"We both said a lot of things," she teased, rolling her eyes. But when the rest of his smile faded, she brought herself down to earth. "Bo, I don't know what it's like to be in love, but if I ever was, I'm absolutely sure it would be with you."

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if that's exactly a declaration."

"I love you, you stupid little country boy," she said, slinging both arms around his neck. "There, I said it, happy?"

"I'd be happier if you said you'd marry me."

She shook her head. "You're crazy. First of all, we're seventeen. High school is almost over, you've got a football scholarship, God-knows what I'm going to have to do after high school as my dad demands that I either go to college or get a job…we're not ready for marriage! You really want to tie yourself down to me?"

He looked down at his hand, which played absently with a hayseed stem he'd been chewing. "Can't imagine anyone like you ever coming along."

She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his ear. She leaned down very close, her lips just brushing it. "Tell you what…ask me again, a year after we graduate. If we're still together, the answer is yes."

He perked up a bit, smiling up at her. That had pretty much ended the conversation. But it was getting around the school quite quickly about Bo's scholarship, and even though the season was long over, it seemed that he was still quite the hero, bringing glory to the small high school of Hazzard and all it's surrounding counties.

The girls started to creep out of the woodwork. Junior cheerleaders who realized this would be their last shot at the running back star of Hazzard High began to be more open about how cute he was, how funny he was, how smart he was. Soon it came down to them not being able to walk down the hallway together without three or four girls practically shoving her out of the way to get closer to Bo.

Worst of it was, Bo was a bit star-struck by the attention. Sure, it had been heavy before, but now it was intense. He was being given a hero's farewell. It all came down on him at once, and right after the senior prom, a week before graduation, he told Henri-Mae that since they were both getting ready to go off to college (although she hadn't declared anything yet for certain) that they should start to think about seeing other people.

"Just to make sure," he assured her. "That you and I are meant for each other."

She'd laughed him off, thinking he was teasing her. But when he told her that one of his friends (and the quarterback of the team to boot) was having a big graduation party on the upcoming Saturday one week before graduation, and that he didn't want to drag her along, as she hated his jock friends and would most likely be bored…

It didn't sit right with her at all.

She spent the night pacing her bedroom, thinking of Bo at that party without her. She thought of him laughing and joking and being so happy with his idiot jock friends. He had more in common with the boys in the shop department, but they didn't gain the glory of a running back who had done more to lead the team to victory that final year than even the quarterback. She thought of him with all those girls there, the cheerleaders and the bimbos (in her mind they were not separate), and how he was alone, his arm empty, her place vacant and being temporarily filled by girl after girl after girl…

Convincing herself it was just to surprise him, that he'd be happy to see her, she told her dad she was going out for a walk, and made her way, on foot, to the party. The house was pretty much in shambles and reeked of beer, but the party was still going strong, boys bumping each other drunkenly in the yard, the old keg being rolled away and the new one being rolled out.

She went into the house and asked the most sober-looking person she could find if he knew where Bo was.

"Think I saw him…headin' toward the barn," came the reply, punctuated by a hiccup, like some kind of cartoon.

"The barn?" Henri-Mae echoed.

"Yeah, with…can't 'member…cheerleader…blond hair, think it was Cindy…or Suzie…can't tell them apart—"

She was amazed at her own speed down to the barn. _No, it wasn't true._ She was going to go into the barn and find it empty except for bales of hay and horses attempting to sleep but instead rather grumpy at being kept awake by the noise.

She saw them in the hay, half-naked, the girl giggling and moaning, Bo on top of her grunting like a pig. She hated him at that moment. She hated him with everything she could imagine. The world turned red and hazy, and she was suddenly on them, yanking them apart with a nearly superhuman strength, and her fist went right into the girl's face, simply because she had knocked Bo so hard from his position that he was sprawled on the floor and currently out of reach.

Having satisfactorily bloodied her knuckles, Henri-Mae stood in stock-still astonishment for a moment, and then glanced at Bo. He was staring up at her in a mixture of terror, horror, and shame, and it was a sight she just couldn't bear. She spun on her heel and headed out of the barn.

"I'm so sorry!" Bo was practically crawling after her on his knees, the girl Henri-Mae had punched curled into a fetal position on the ground, currently ignored in spite of the blood pouring from her nose. "God help me, Henri-Mae, I'm so sorry!"

She felt his fingers catch around her wrist and yanked, knocking him to the ground again, but his grip was firm and he nearly dragged her down with him. She yanked harder, willing to rip off her clothes if that was what it took to get him to let go of her.

"I'll never forgive you for this, Bo Duke," she spat at him, letting it fly right onto his face. She barely managed to keep her fist from connecting with one of those pleading eyes. "Not as long as I live! I'll rot in hell before I ever spare you so much as a kind word again!"

With a final, vicious tug, she felt the sleeve of her shirt give, and she stormed off into the night, one arm bare to the cool summer winds.

She had burned that shirt. She didn't even remember what it looked like. In less-sane moments, when she let herself feel the stings of self-pity on levels that would have sent most psychiatrists into spasms, she wondered whatever happened to the sleeve of that shirt. If she would recognize it if she saw it. If it had been picked up and thrown in the trash, or if by some crazy notion Bo had kept it.

Henri-Mae straightened herself from where she was leaning over the sink in Boss Hogg's own private bathroom. She'd stepped in here to change into her new deputy clothes. She wasn't sure how she looked. She felt oddly comfortable, and that was the most discomfiting thing of all.

With a sigh, she pulled the hat over her head. Her long hair was bound in a thick bun at the base of her neck, and it looked darker under the wide brim. The shining silvery band that ran around the top came over in a small X just over her eyes, and on her, the look worked. With a smirk, she pulled herself together, assured herself that she just had to sit back and enjoy the ride to come, and headed out the door.

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A fewdayshad passed since he'd gone chasing after Henri-Mae in Capitol City, and over that time everything seemed to have blown over. Sure, he still got some side-glances now and again, but Bo Duke had been raised to keep his head high no matter what, and he didn't let it get to him.

This was the first Saturday he'd been in the Boar's Nest, and he was rather enjoying it. Although Boss Hogg was entirely too visible for his tastes. Especially when he went to the bar and rang the bell, demanding everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he said in his thick, syrupy accent. "I hope you're all enjoying yourselves this evening! I'm glad y'all are here, as I have a very special announcement. As of this very evening, we have a brand new deputy on our own Hazzard police force!"

There was a surprised murmur. Bo suddenly found it difficult to swallow. Luke and Jesse exchanged glances, and Daisy was watching him cautiously from her stand behind the bar.

"I'd like you all to welcome our new Deputy Locke!"

She stepped out of the office, and she was quite an impressive sight. The blue of the shirt brought out her eyes, there was a shine to her new badge that seemed to match her smile, and instead of the traditional skirt that lady deputies were supposed to be wearing, she was wearing her black leather pants complete with motorcycle boots.

Henri-Mae, reinvented.

As she approached, Boss Hogg's smile faded a bit. "What are you wearing? What about the skirt?" he asked.

"How in the heck can I work in a skirt, Boss?" she teased, coming up to him. "You don't expect me to break up bar-brawls and wind up showing off my panties, to do you?" She shot a glance up at Rosco and winked at him, effectively tinting the Sheriff's cheeks pink.

"Well," the lanky man stuttered, "I don't think…uh…well, that is…uh…"

"Rosco," Hogg barked. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," the Sheriff muttered.

"And if I wear these pants, I can use my bike for patrols and you don't have to buy me a new police car," she pointed out.

Boss immediately brightened. Any chance to save a buck with that man. "That is true. Although you're going to have to get over to Cooter's and get the department logo painted on the side, as every official vehicle has to have the seal of approval!"

"Will you reimburse me for that?"

"Are you kiddin' me?" Rosco cried. "The Boss has never reimbursed anybody in his life and he ain't about to start now!"

"Rosco, shut up!" Hogg said, more forcefully. "Tell you what," he added, his tone more sweet as he turned it to Henri-Mae, "I can give you an advance on your paycheck to go pay for it. How'd that be?"

Henri-Mae chuckled and shook her head. "Just swear me in, Boss," she said. "I'm anxious to write my first ticket."

Rosco gave one his man-giggles. "Girl after my own heart," he clucked. "I think this is gonna work out just fine."

Bo stared down into his beer. _Just fine, indeed._

The End

For Now.


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